The Book, the Brit and the Idiotic Boyfriend
by CitrusFruitsAppreciationClub
Summary: Oneshots about Alfred and Arthur's life at Hetalia Academy. WARNING: Contains swearing, fluff and bad jokes, not necessarily in that order. Updated weekly!
1. Period 1: PE (For Public Embarrassment)

A/N I am so sorry, I really am... So, this is my way of avoiding revision. I hope you, er, enjoy, and please do leave a review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and I can't think of a witty way to say I don't.

Anna X

* * *

Alfred pouted, looking over at his boyfriend. As usual, Arthur had oh-so-accidently forgotten his PE kit, and got to sit out to the side, reading whatever boring stuff he was into at the moment. The Brit said it was because he 'valued the flow and the art of quality literature'. Alfred thought he was covering up the fact he sucked at sports.

"Jones, your turn to referee," yelled the teacher, throwing the whistle to the boy, who just caught it. Sulking slightly (now his team was BOUND to lose without the Hero on their side…) he walked to the side of the court and stood next to Arthur. Peering over at the cover of the book, Alfred wrinkled his nose.

"Shakespeare, Artie?" he asked, "Really?" Arthur scowled.

"So? I value the flow and the-" Alfred put his hand over his boyfriend's mouth.

"I know, babe," he said, looking down at the page he was on. Arthur must have been annotating, because there were a number of words underlined… Before he could see exactly which ones, Arthur had slammed the book shut.

"Don't you have a game to referee?" he asked sourly, with a hint of anxiousness to his voice. Now curious, Alfred leaned over and tried to pry the book out of his hands.

"Why won't you show me?" he whined, before breaking into a wide smirk, "Wait, I know! You've been doodling 'Arthur Jones' all over the pages and don't want me to see!"

"No."

"Finding the perfect speech to profess your undying love for me?"

"... Really?"

"Using it as a cover to hide the fact you're really having erotic fantasies about last night?"

"Did Francis put something in your burger?" Arthur raised a thick eyebrow, before giving the other boy a push in the opposite direction, "Now go do the bloody PE you love so much."

"Mhn, okay babe…" said Alfred, turning away. When Arthur relaxed slightly and lessened his grip on the book, he whipped back around, snatched it from his hands and opened it – Haha, you can't fool the Hero! There were no 'Arthur Jones' doodles, but as Alfred leafed through the pages, holding it high up and out of his now angry boyfriend's reach, he noticed that all the underlined words seemed to be coming together into another story, one rather... Different, from the one being told in 'Hamlet.' Maybe Alfred hadn't been too far off with that last guess after all…

Alfred grinned, before grabbing Arthur, hoisting him up into his arms and running towards the PE store cupboard.

"Y-you git!" snarled Arthur, fisting his hands into the front of the American's jacket to stop himself falling, "What the hell are you doing?!" Alfred only smiled wider.

"I'm going to help you rehearse your Shakespeare, Artie~" was all that the rest of the class could hear, before the cupboard door slammed shut ominously.

* * *

A/N Review, or, um... W-wow, I suck at this... *hides in emo corner*


	2. Period 2: Assembly

A/N Hello again! This one is a -bit- longer, and I hope you enjoy! I'm going to try to update this weekly...

Thankyou to polarbear1805 for reviewing and to everyone who followed and/or favourited :3 *throws cookies*

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not and will never be mine (it's probably for the best)

Anna X

* * *

It was that time of week again.

"Okay git," Arthur snapped, as the two filed their way into the hall, only a_ few_ minutes after the other students (for reasons Arthur did not want to mention), "Just to let you know, if you embarrass me again, you are sleeping in the garage for the next year."

"Aaw, I wouldn't dream of it Artie," Alfred smiled sweetly, causally wrapping an arm around the Brit's shoulder and pulling him uncomfortably close.

The assembly hall they had at Hetalia Academy (or 'amphitheatre', as Professor Vargas, the headteacher, liked to call it) was arranged in rows, each one slightly above the other, all facing towards the bottom of the room where the teachers stood and 'imparted their knowledge to the younger generation'. Today, Professor Beilschmidt, the intimidating PE teacher, was stood there. Oh joy, another half hour of being told to join the football team…

As the two students began to walk awkwardly down the stairs, Arthur trying to push the insistent American away, Mr. Edelstein, the music teacher, tapped Alfred on the arm.

"Separate rows, please boys," he said, while staring pointedly at the clock, "We don't want you causing disruption." Alfred sighed and let go of Arthur's shoulder, before sitting at the end of the row. Wincing and massaging his shoulder (was it dislocated?!) Arthur sat down in the row in front of him. The assembly had barely begun, when a familiar voice appeared next to his ear.

"That idiot! I mean, like we would ever do that…" Alfred growled, "And did you hear him, 'causing any disruption'?! He's just pissed that Ms. Héderváry dumped him and now he's jealous of our undying happiness and love as a couple and wants to SPLIT US APART to keep us away from each other!"

"… Whatever you say, love," Arthur mumbled, while still trying to make it seem he was looking at the front. I mean, Alfred could get into trouble but he was not getting dragged down as well. Not this time. Meanwhile, Alfred continued his rant.

"And look, he's even bored of this himself, just look. He's staring at the door to the music room again… I swear there's something going on between him and that piano of his. We should find out…"

"Shut it, wanker," Arthur whispered. Mr. Edelstein had turned and was now glaring at the both of them. Shit.

"Wait, maybe that's why they broke up! Ms. Héderváry was too jealous of Mr. Edelstein's steamy love affair with his beloved musical instrument, so she dumped him in a fit of rage. So now he's trying to win her back through his separation from the piano for this long duration of time, but she refuses to re-grant him her affections! You see Artie," he leaned forwards conspiratorially, "_It all makes sense._"

"Why are you talking like Francis all of a sudden?" Arthur said through gritted teeth. The teacher was definitely looking at them now… "And shut up…" Alfred must have got the message, because for a few minutes, Arthur was listening to the Professor's 'You Are Less Shit at Sport than You Think' (well, that was the implied message) speech with no interruptions. Or so he thought.

Alfred leaned towards him to whisper something, but this time Arthur moved forwards and out of hearing range. As Arthur was complimenting himself on avoiding another glare from Mr. Edelstein, Alfred lost his balance, falling out of his seat and on top of the other boy with a startled yell. Everyone turned suddenly to face what could, possibly, be interpreted as-

"BOYS!" yelled Professor Beilschmidt, "THAT IS NOT APPROPRIATE CONDUCT FOR AN ASSEMBLY!"

* * *

A/N Please review, I have, er... virtual cookies! *sweatdrops*


	3. Period 3: Dentention

A/N Hello again!

Thankyou to polarbear1805 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or McDonalds.

* * *

"Okay," scowled Arthur, looking his boyfriend in the face, "Firstly, this is entirely your fault. Secondly, we're already late, so hurry up. Thirdly… You owe me at least seven cups of tea." Alfred laughed.

"Oh Artie," he grinned, "I can tell you've never been in detention before." He slung his bag carelessly over his shoulder, "You're gonna love it." He dawdled slowly along the corridor. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur followed.

* * *

The classroom the detention was held in was on the other side of the school to Arthur and Alfred's last lesson, so it was several minutes after the start that Arthur carefully opened the door. Trying to peer inside, he was immediately pushed in by a 'sheesh, stop worrying, Artie,' and a wave to Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio.

To be perfectly honest, Arthur _should_ have seen this coming. This hindsight, however, was not particularly helpful as he saw all three turn to him, grins on their faces.

"Hi guys!" exclaimed Alfred, walking over and high-fiving all of them, Arthur reluctantly following, "Great to see you could join us." Gilbert laughed and looked up from his video game.

"Well the awesome me, and the other two lesser beings, couldn't just stand there after you two pulled such a spectacle-"

"It was not a-"Arthur began to protest.

"Kesesesesese, we all know you liked it. And after that, we couldn't let you overshadow our reputation…"

"So," said Antonio brightly,"I wanted to outdo you with _my_ public display of affection. You know Lovi gets sensitive about these things…" Somehow, all five boys could hear a faint yell of 'NO I DON'T, BASTARD', before the sound of something smashing. Choosing to ignore this, but glancing warily towards the door, the Spaniard straightened up and continued. "So I declared my love for my little tomato during music class, but he was, ah, less than appreciative…" he massaged the red slap mark on his cheek.

"I also wanted to spread l'amour," crooned Francis, leaning in uncomfortably close to Alfred. Arthur pulled his boyfriend a little closer and glared. "But for some reason, the teachers didn't seem to like it…"

"Really, amigos, you should have seen Mrs. Karpusi's face," laughed Antonio.

"Um," asked Alfred, "Isn't she, like…"

"L'AMOUR KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES," proclaimed the Frenchman, spreading his arms flamboyantly.

"Okay, whatever you say, dude…" said Alfred, shrinking backwards a little.

"And of course I was not going to let mein friends go to this unawesome detention on their own," Gilbert spoke up, "So I just punched Ivan in the face."

"So that's why you're on crutches," Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Yep," grinned Gilbert, "Wanna sign my cast?" He swung his leg forwards, to reveal the plaster to be covered in doodles, 'J'adore Francis' and, in large red letters, 'Hetalia Academy's no. 1 pervert!'. Fortunately, at that moment the door swung open to reveal the teacher that would be making their lives hell for the next hour. At least, that's what Arthur had been expecting.

"Greetings, students!" smiled Professor Vargas, walking into the room and stretching, "Today… in detention…" Arthur prepared himself for the worst. Wait, what if he had to scrape chewing gum off the bottom of the desks? Or if he had to clean the school toilets? With his toothbrush! No, he needed that! All the rumours were true! He'd be traumatised for months! He'd be-

"… We'll be having a siesta," the Professor finished, "So, if you all will begin, I will continue with my own…" With that, the head teacher put his head on the desk and closed his eyes. Arthur blinked, unsure of what he just heard.

"Um, sir," asked Arthur, "Isn't this supposed to be a detention?" Professor Vargas opened one eye and looked up.

"Oh but it is, dear child! These desks are most uncomfortable for taking siestas, you know…" With that, he dropped back onto the desk. Gentle snoring followed several seconds later.

"So…" smirked Gilbert, looking at the sleeping teacher, "Let the shitstorm begin!" He pulled out a hockey stick and raised it over Antonio's head, "LET ME KNOCK SOME AWESOME INTO YOU." The Spaniard leapt up and retreated quickly to the other side of the room, before flipping one of the desks on its side, dragging it to a corner and drawing out a paintball gun. Alfred grabbed Arthur and dived behind a cabinet. Francis, meanwhile, opened the storeroom door, and with a chorus of 'Oh Francis, honey~, you've kept us waiting for so long~' it slammed shut.

"Don't worry, Artie," said Alfred through gritted teeth, "I'm gonna be the hero and protect you!" He broke into a smile and patted Arthur's head, ignoring the icy glare he received in return.

"Does this happen every single time?" Arthur asked, taking in the sleeping Professor, the hockey-stick waving Prussian, the wannabe sniper Spaniard and the suspiciously lustful sounds coming from the cupboard.

"Duh," said Alfred, pulling open his jacket, letting a heap of junk food and snacks fall to the floor, "Why d'ya think I bought all this on the way to school?"

"Alfred, you always buy that on the way to school."

"Whatever, dude. Now watch the hero save your ass," Alfred yelled, launching the burger at Antonio, knocking the paintball gun out of his hands. He threw another at the Prussian, but Gilbert swung the hockey stick and sent it right back at them. As the Big Mac hit the side of the cabinet, Arthur raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

"Food? You're fighting with food?" Alfred munched on a chip, before turning to Arthur.

"Yep," he grinned, "And I'm gonna win using food. And my hero-ness." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Ah yes, and where would a hero be without his damsel in distress?" he exclaimed sarcastically, raising a hand to his forehead dramatically, "O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!"

"Stop calling me insane and back me up!"

* * *

It turned out that Alfred was right, because, twenty minutes and one ruined classroom later, the American laughed triumphantly at the defeated Antonio and Gilbert, covered from head to toe in grease and breadbuns. Professor Vargas had slept through the entire thing. It was quite comical, really, thought Arthur, trying not to laugh.

Suddenly, the cupboard door began to creak open, and a tired but satisfied Francis stumbled out. The other four all turned to stare, as he adjusted his blazer slightly, completely ignoring his lipstick-smeared face and neck.

"Mes amis," he exclaimed, "You really must go in there sometime… Now come," he signalled to his two best friends, "We have chaos to create!"

As the door closed behind the trio, Alfred looked towards Arthur.

"Y'know Artie, I think we should celebrate our victory…" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arthur began to back away.

"Not here, Alfred! Alfred, we'd get caught, are you listening to me? Alfred, get your hands off my- mmph!" The American pressed Arthur up against the wall, their lips locked and their arms wound around each other's necks within seconds, his fingers skilfully running through Arthur's hair. His other arm wound around the Brit's waist and slipped under his shirt, pulling him closer as Arthur let out a small moan. Moving his lips to Arthur's neck, Alfred bit down on the sensitive skin, strongly enough to leave a bruise that would be clearly visible later. The shorter boy whimpered, his arms wrapping tightly around Alfred's shoulders. The American finished the hickey, straightening up and brushing his lips across his boyfriend's cheek. Arthur grabbed hold of the front of Alfred's jacket and pulled him forwards into another kiss.

Footsteps. Oh fuck.

Alfred barely had time to let go of his boyfriend and spin around to face the door when it opened, to reveal a very angry PE teacher. It was, admittedly, not difficult to guess what the pair had been up to. Shirts untucked, messy hair, wet lips, guilty expressions…

"HAVE YOU TWO LEARNED NOTHING?!" Mr. Beilschmidt yelled at Arthur and Alfred, "Detention for the rest of the week!"

Needless to say, that night Alfred slept on the sofa.

* * *

A/N Because you *cough* love me so, so much *cough*... *holds out cookies* Review?


	4. Period 4: Library

A/N Hello again! I hope you all enjoy this chapter ^_^

Thankyou to polarbear1805 for reviewing (By the way, I loved your idea! It'll probably be up in 2 or 3 weeks-ish :3), and everyone who followed/favourited! Also, I only just realised that I've had anon reviews turned off... *sweatdrops* I'm sorry! I will check from now on OTL

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine *sadface*

* * *

Hetalia Academy Library. A calm, tranquil, idyllic environment, where one could admire the graceful architecture and centuries-old knowledge. A place where one could relax, unwind and enjoy the surroundings. A place where one would go for some much needed peace and quiet. Well, until the students arrived. Then, the room was a chaotic mess of thrown paper, arguing couples and molesters on the loose (officially known as Francis and Yong Soo). As usual, the library was a haven of all, frankly, weird shit. Plans were even going around to install a trampoline in the Classical Literature section.

Which was why Arthur Kirkland was stood in the middle of the library, holding a petition. Alone. He sighed. He had at least been counting on Heracles to turn up – I mean, that kid LOVED ancient philosophy books… Looking around, he saw the Greek, at last… Sleeping in a corner, surrounded by cats and Kiku, the Japanese boy Arthur sat with in maths. The only other person who had promised to come with him, Alfred, had disappeared five minutes ago and was now talking to Yao, the librarian, about who-knows-what. Leaving his bag on the table, Arthur went over to _politely_ interrupt.

"Excuse me Yao," he said, trying to hide his irritation. He had promised! Was he the only damn person in the school who cared about _real _literature? (Actually, don't answer that…), "But Alfred was helping me with that anti-trampolining campaign, so could you please…" he gestured to the large pile of books stacked up on the cart, "Don't you have all of those to put away?"

Yao shrugged, "Ivan will do them aru. And we were only talking about installing a water slide in the reference section. The library can become the theme park of the school!"

"… So it was you behind all this…" glared Arthur. Yao smirked back and leaned against the cart.

"So what if it was aru?" Arthur grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him away, glowering over his shoulder in what he hoped was a terrifying and dramatic way.

"Just you wait!" he called, "You will never get away with this!" As the pair walked away, Yao turned to Ivan, who had walked up beside him while they were talking.

"Do you think I should tell him I was joking?" he asked. Ivan shook his head.

"That idiot, thinking we could fit a water slide in the reference section… We'd need somewhere as large as the whole non-fiction section to fit one of those in, da?" Yao's eyes lit up.

"You mean it would actually fit aru?!"

* * *

"…thinking they can destroy my precious Classical Literature section…" Arthur mumbled, as he dragged his boyfriend across the room. Alfred laughed nervously.

"Ah, babe," he asked, concerned, "Are you alright?"

"Absolutely fine," Arthur snapped in reply, "Never been bloody better since that time we used the whipped cream and marshmallows that time your parents were away." This was probably said a little too loudly, since at least half the people sitting at the row of computers were now whispering, in that everyone-will-know-this-by-Monday kind of way. Great. Bloody great.

"… Does this mean we can do it again?" Alfred said brightly, just as loudly. Okay, make that the end of the day. Seething, Arthur reached the table where he had left his bag, only to find it no longer there. He quickly located it.

Lovino, one of Professor Vargas' grandsons, was trying his best to kill Ludwig, the intimidating German. Using Arthur's belongings. While yelling something about bastards and, er, potatoes? Arthur sighed yet again and began to make his way over there, until he saw what exactly the Italian was using to try to break Ludwig's neck.

"NO!" yelled Arthur, running over to Lovino and snatching 'Hamlet' out of his hands, clutching it close to his chest, "That is NOT how we treat Sir Winston!"

"You NAMED your book, tea bastard?" Lovino asked incredulously.

"So?" Arthur replied, "Everyone does it, right?" Silence resonated through the library, like Francis' laugh though the soul of a terrified suitor. Finally, Alfred spoke up.

"Well," he laughed, "I dunno about books, but my dick is called-"

"YOU BLOODY BASTARD WHY THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT DO YOU HAVE NO FUCKING SHAME YOU SHITTY WASHED UP SON OF A BITCH MOTHERFUCKING FUCKING… FUCKING… er… SIR WINSTON, ATTACK!" Arthur attacked his boyfriend with the book, hitting his shoulders, head, arms, chest, and with one particularly painful kick to the groin. Alfred backed away from Arthur, doubled over.

"Ow…" he winced, "Wasn't that a bit of an overreaction?" Arthur stroked the cover of the book happily, making sure there were no _major_ dents.

"No," he said sweetly, before carefully replacing Sir Winston in his bag, "It's just I've heard enough of Florida to last me a lifetime, love. Always promising, never delivering…" With a smile and a wink, he walked out of the library, ignoring Francis' catcalls. All eyes turned to Alfred expectantly.

"L-LIES," was all he could get out, "ALL LIES."

* * *

"You know Lovino…" said Arthur thoughtfully to the Italian, looking down at the book, "You were right, it IS good stress relief."

"Y-yeah…" said Lovino, shrinking away from the Brit slightly, "No problem, bastard…"

* * *

A/N I still have those virtual cookies... Review? *puppy eyes*


	5. Period 5: Detention Again

A/N Yay, another chapter! *rewards self with cookie* Thankyou to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited

The idea for this chapter came from polarbear1805!

By the way, I couldn't find any human names for Germania or Rome, so I just made up their first names. *sweatdrops*.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Sailor Moon, SexyLlama's Escort Services, Photoshop, bloodgutsandmore, Hedgehog Launch or Coca Cola. That's quite a list O.o

* * *

Alfred stared at the clock longingly. Ten seconds, five seconds- The bell rang, and the class, previously with all the energy of a lazy, obese walrus, had all jumped to their feet and stampeded out of the room by the time the last chime sounded. Well, except for two unfortunate souls. Arthur slowly, _slowly_ packed his books into his bag, while Gilbert decided to take his time meticulously counting every pen, pencil and pencil sharpening scattered haphazardly across his desk.

Alfred made it halfway down the corridor before he realising why.

He turned and walked back, a sense of doom building. He gulped, before sticking his head back into the almost empty classroom.

"Ah… We wouldn't have detention today, would we?" he said, "With-"

"Yes," snapped Gilbert, slamming his bag on the desk and grabbing his crutches, "Mein grandfather, of all people. This is totally unfair to the awesome me!" he sulked. His worst fears confirmed, Alfred's stomach sank like a stone. His internal organs were halfway to Australia before Arthur spoke.

"I take it you've already written your last wills and testaments…" he said with finality, before gesturing out of the window to the bright, sunny day – almost as if it were mocking them.

"Of course," Gilbert replied, "I've left a pile of horse shit for Mr. Edelstein, signed photographs of myself for the whole school and a Sailor Moon costume for mein brother." His voice carried an odd sense of… Pride. "But it is most unawesome that mein friends aren't here to die with me…" he said, before brightening up, "I shall have to haunt them as an awesome ghost!"

"Well," grinned Arthur, "I left Peter the Crown Jewels, I can't wait to see his face when he tries to claim them…" an evil grin spread across his face, "Francis has a subscription to SexyLlama's Escort Services, and I've asked my brothers to send a suitcase of my finest scones to the school dinner ladies. I will leave a legacy behind, of good, wholesome-"

"Crap," finished Gilbert decidedly, "Now come on, the lovechild of the four horsemen of the apocalypse is waiting…"

Alfred glanced at the pair, and decided not to ask.

* * *

Before they had taken two steps inside the room, they could feel the burning, laser-like glare of a very intimidating PE teacher. Maybe because they were ten minutes late…

"Hello boys," Mr. Beilschmidt glowered. Arthur and Alfred visibly shrunk backwards, unlike Gilbert, who put on a falsified and unconvincing smile;

"H-hey Gramps," he said, "How's it going?"

Without a word in greeting, the PE teacher gestured to three laptops.

"Today, you will be checking the Internet histories of a few… select pupils. Repeat offenders, I must say, so it is of _paramount_ importance," with that, he looked at the trio with a steely glare, "That if you see something unacceptable, you record it and its content in _extreme_ detail. I will be expecting your full reports in three hours time."

"Three hours!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Silence, Kirkland," said Mr. Beilschmidt, not even turning to look at him, "As I was saying, you each have a list of pupils to check, about four each. Make sure to carefully check any website that says it was deleted from the browser history… Before any of you say anything," he said, with a hint of resentment in his voice, "It _will_ take three hours to check them. I always told Vargas free unlimited student wifi was a bad idea…" he trailed off, staring blankly into space. Realising the three pupils were still watching him expectantly, he straightened up, retrieved three pieces of paper from his pocket and slammed one down on each desk. Retreating to the desk at the front of the room, he surveyed them all with his steely glare. After a few minutes, Alfred raised his hand.

"Um, sir?" he asked hesitantly.

"What?"

"Ms. Héderváry is on this list…"

"That is correct. Now get on with it."

* * *

It was around halfway through those three hours of torture, that Alfred realised he was being scarred for life. When he had first looked down at his list – Feliciano Vargas, Ms. Héderváry, Ivan Braginsky and Francis Bonnefoy – he had thought things wouldn't be too bad, with the possible exception of Francis. However, as he worked through said list, his mind grew terrified of what he would find when he finally did get to the Frenchman.

Firstly, there was Feli. Alfred had honestly been surprised he was even been on the list. He seemed far too innocent – correction, had. Had seemed far too innocent. Alfred had always known the kid liked to paint… Just not nude models. (Later in the detention, Alfred would look back fondly to when discovering nude model sites counted as a shock). But thinking about it, the American thought, as he stared at one of the men's perfectly formed chest muscles; he could understand the Italian's motivation.

Damn, how much did the guy have to work out to look like that? Or, the voice in the back of his mind said, how much Photoshop. For the sake of Alfred's own ego, he settled for Photoshop.

Secondly, Ms. Héderváry. Another person Alfred really hadn't anticipated being on a list. He soon discovered why. This revelation caused him to almost yell, and slam down his laptop lid with enough force to break the laptop, table, and floor beneath it. After being shouted at and the whole group relocating to another classroom, a traumatised Alfred (with new, shiny computer), was forced to continue.

An hour later, Alfred never wanted to hear the words 'yaoi', 'uke' and 'seme' for the rest of his life. Nor, would he ever be able to sit through one of the Hungarian's history lessons again. Ever. He was starting to wonder whether a court would consider this cruel and unusual punishment, as he closed the last tab, pale and slightly queasy.

Ivan Braginsky. Unlike the others, Alfred felt slightly prepared for what he was going to be faced with. However, when one is so scared of horror movies that one has to spend the next week hiding under the duvet, and one is exposed to bloodgutsandmore (all your favourite violent and brutal killings, all in one website!) in high definition because of one's new, shiny computer, there is really no other possible reaction other than for one to run for the hills, at a speed that one's PE teacher should really be applauding, because it's far faster than one ever managed to do in lesson. Sadly, said PE teacher was less than appreciative of this explanation.

Fourthly, Francis… Let's not talk about what was on Francis' internet history, Alfred gulped… Let's just… _Not_.

* * *

Arthur, unlike Alfred, had only been given three people to invade their privacy- sorry, _check their internet_. Wondering why, he checked his list, finding Kiku Honda's name underlined with a large, red line, and the words 'CHRONIC OFFENDER'. Ah.

Arthur, having been exposed to far more, let's just say explicit, material than his boyfriend (all completely by chance, of course… What do you mistake him for, some kind of pervert?), was considerably less scarred by the experience of his first two 'targets' – Ludwig and Gilbert himself, causing him to wonder if he was on one of the others' lists. If so… Shit. Although he did manage to pick up some good recommendations (for more accidental stumbling upon – then the screen just froze! For two hours!).

However, just as Alfred ran screaming out of the room, Arthur opened the first webpage from Kiku's history –

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL OH MY FLYING MINT BUNNY WHY?!" He covered his face and sank beneath the desk. Meanwhile, Mr. Beilschmidt looked on with mild amusement, before walking out to find the fleeing American.

"By the way, Kirkland," he smirked, turning around when he reached the door, "ALL of those links need checking." Arthur slowly pulled himself upright, and looked at the internet list. Wha- how many? There had to be at least a hundred, no, two hundred. Gilbert looked around, to see the Brit now huddled in a corner of the classroom, a purple cloud of depression hanging over his head.

"Why me?" came a small sob, "Why me?" Gilbert grabbed his crutches and hobbled over to Arthur's screen.

"Okay, now I want to kn – MEIN GOTT I DON'T WANT TO KNOW." Seeing the webpage, the German fled back to his desk and began clicking furiously, as Mr. Beilschmidt walked back into the room, a ghostly Alfred in tow.

"Kirkland, Jones, you have work, do it," he said, his intimidating aura filling the classroom like a choking, inescapable cloud of doom, "Gilbert…" he looked over at his laptop, "Get off Hedgehog Launch and back to what you were doing."

"It was on Antonio's history! I was checking it for – "

"CONTINUE WITH YOUR WORK."

* * *

By 5pm, all three boys were dangerously close to losing the will to live. Alfred looked drained, Gilbert was falling asleep where he sat, and Arthur was trembling in fear as he scrolled through video after video of girls, with questionable proportions and even more questionable content. Arthur would never look at octopuses the same way again.

All were so exhausted, that when Mr. Beilschmidt finally announced detention over, they could barely drag themselves to their feet. Alfred leant against the desk as he retrieved a much-needed can of coke. Caffeine would help, right?

As the teacher finally left, soon followed by Gilbert, mumbling about 'pranks to catch up on', the American spotted Arthur looking down at the floor, his eyes appearing unfocused. Thinking he might be upset, Alfred put down his coke and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders.

"S'okay," he mumbled into his ear, "I'm sure we haven't been mentally warped… too… much." He made to wrap his arms around Arthur's shoulders, but the Brit shrugged it off and pointed at the piece of paper lying by the door.

"Look…" Curious, Alfred walked over and picked it up. What he saw made him almost spit out his mouthful of soft drink, causing him to cough and splutter. Arthur ran across to hit him on the back, before looking over at the paper – causing him to suffer a similar reaction.

_Dear Julius,_

_We have been friends now… for so long. Well, you always called us friends, no matter my protests – of which there were many, if you remember. When I first started here, you were always at my side, whether I liked it or not. I don't like to admit it, but I was always secretly thankful for your help and support. Eventually, we reached the semi-friendship we share now. But the thing is, recently I've started to want us to be... a little more than that. _

_What I'm trying to say is… gosh this is so awkward… that over time, my feelings towards you grew – and more than in a friendly way. As much as I have been trying to deny the fact, I am in love with you. And I would really like you to love me too. _

_Yours lovingly and hopefully, _

_Wilhelm._

* * *

After they both got over the initial shock and managed to finish reading, there was a moment of deathly silence. Then, both boys simultaneously erupted into fits of laughter. Their earlier exhaustion gone, all they could comprehend was just how terrible this love note - could it even be called that? - was. A little longer than a few minutes later, when they had both recovered, Alfred looked at Arthur.

"What do you think we should do?" he asked, "This letter is awful… Maybe we should just throw it away," he started to walk towards the bin, "It's probably for the best."

"No!" Arthur grabbed the letter from his boyfriend's hands, "Don't you see? We can _help_ him by rewriting it. I know from experience you're very good at writing love notes," he smirked knowingly, leaning his head against Alfred's shoulder.

"Totally!" Alfred exclaimed, "Professor Vargas won't know what hit him and he'll have to accept!"

"We can help Mr. Beilschmidt and earn his respect, which means NO MORE HORRIBLE DETENTIONS," Arthur continued excitedly.

"WHILE KEEPING THE OLD ONE AS BLACKMAIL!" Alfred finished, grabbing Arthur's arms and lifting him into the air, "We are geniuses!" he continued excitedly:

"There is no possible way this could go wrong!"

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, and if anyone has ideas for future chapters let me know ^_^


	6. Period 6: Music

A/N Another chapter! Thanks to polarbear1805 and Sho-chan669 for reviewing (and for your awesome ideas :3) and everyone who favourited/followed. ^_^

Also, thank you for pointing out I've been saying Romano instead of Lovino… *sweatdrops at my own idiocy* I've fixed it now.

(For anyone who doesn't know, Feliks is Poland and Mei is Taiwan)

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine.

* * *

"I'm telling you, Alfred," said Arthur, running to catch up with his boyfriend as they walked down the corridor, "He won't notice, I promise!" Alfred shook his head.

"No," he replied, "No fucking way… No way." He shook his head furiously, as if trying to clear a bad memory. Gilbert appeared from nowhere and tapped the American on the shoulder.

"What's the matter, kesese? Did that detention reform you?"

"Yes!"

"But we need to do it now!" demanded Arthur, "It can't wait a second longer!"

"No! We'll get in trouble."

"BUT WE REALLY NEED TO DO IT NOW!"

"Kirkland," yelled a gruff, German-accented voice from the other side of the hallway, "Keep your carnal urges to yourself, and get to your class." Arthur went bright red and Gilbert burst out laughing.

"That-That's not what I meant!" the Brit stammered. Alfred tried not to join in the laughter, instead grabbing his boyfriend's hand and pulling him towards hell- Sorry, music class.

With Mr. Edelstein and his beloved piano. Where, according to Arthur, they had to redraft _that_ love letter. Apparently, all other subjects were too interesting…

* * *

_Le flashback~_

"_So," said Alfred, as the pair finally exited the detention room and began to make their way along the corridor, "When are we actually going to do this thing?" He stopped and looked over the note. "Y'know, we could probably do this thing in an evening if we really concentrated-"_

"_No," said Arthur immediately, "Not in the evening!" His eyes narrowed, "That's our _special_ time…" Alfred's heart skipped a beat. No way was he missing that, just to help some PE teacher. I mean, wasn't PURE AND INNOCENT CUDDLING *cough* far, far more important? _

"_So, er…" said Alfred, sincerely hoping no one had heard that, "What about English? That lesson is super borin-" _

"_I'll curse you." Alfred stopped suddenly, as Arthur seemed to be on the verge of an angry, Godzilla-like transformation. Fearing for his life, Alfred immediately changed his suggestion;_

"_I-mean-it's-totally-not-boring-best-subject-ever," he backtracked quickly, "We could do it in history…" _

"_What, with Ms. 'Hawk-Eye' Héderváry?"_

"… _Point taken," said Alfred._

"_Although I really don't see how she does it," Arthur continued, "Most of the time she just sits and stares at that computer screen all lesson while we work. Does she have cameras everywhere or something to spot us? And I wonder what's so interesting for her to be staring at all lesson…" Alfred paled._

"_QUICKLY_ _MOVING ON," he said loudly, ignoring the odd look Arthur gave him, "What about PE?"_

"_Too risky! He'll see us writing it and even then we actually have to join in the," he shuddered, "Exercise…"_

"_But you never join in!" _

"_The Great Works of Shakespeare called me," said Arthur, spreading his arms poetically. How his boyfriend could say that with a straight face, Alfred would never know. _

"_Science?"_

"_We sit with Francis, Gilbert and Antonio. Do you really want them to find out what we're doing?"_

"_How about geography?"_

"_I'm failing that class," said Arthur, "Maths?"_

"I'm_ failing that!" exclaimed Alfred. Arthur paused. _

"_You know that only leaves us with one subject, right?" Alfred turned._

"_Which one?" Arthur grinned._

"_You'll see when we get there."_

* * *

"_Beethoven, possibly one of the greatest composers of all time…"_ Alfred slumped in his seat and rested his head on his arms. Arthur, sitting a few desks away from him, saw this and raised an eyebrow, reaching into his pocket and taking out the love letter. Alfred glared and turned away. Nu-uh. Not this time.

"_After this, the young Beethoven…"_ Okay, maybe he was bored. More than a little bored. But he would not give in to temptation! Almost immediately, he found himself turning towards Arthur, before stopping himself. No, he wouldn't do this! He was going to sit there, and concentrate, and get the best grades in the class, and stare at Arthur chewing that pen…

DAMMIT.

With a small, resigned sigh, Alfred turned to Arthur. The shorter boy grinned triumphantly, put down his pen (so he was doing it on purpose… Alfred glowered), and threw a screwed up piece of paper across the sleeping heads of Heracles and Feliks, which Alfred caught. He opened it.

'_I knew you'd give in *smirk*.' _Alfred looked towards Arthur and glared._ 'Here's how it works. You write a bit, then throw it back to me and I'll add some more. We keep going like that until it's finished. Nod if you agree'. _He caught Arthur's expectant eyes, and, reluctantly, nodded. He tore a piece of paper out of the middle of his book and started to scribble.

'_Dear my most precious and valued friend…'_

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Alfred was staring to see the good side of this. He certainly wasn't bored anymore, and he had to admit it, writing love notes was kind of fun. Although he was adamant that they would erase at least three quarters of what Arthur had written in the final copy. Most of it sounded like lines ripped off from bad porn movies…

… Which was why Arthur didn't write love letters anymore. Until the one time it actually mattered... Alfred facepalmed. Oh well, at least it was funny for now. But still… Alfred added a quick note to the bottom of his next sentence.

'_Artie! This is a love letter, not sexting…' _ A few minutes later, Arthur threw the paper back.

'_Relax, they're basically the same thing… And anyway, I thought it might help for him to be a little more forward.'_ Alfred raised an eyebrow as he returned the paper.

'_They are NOT the same thing! And I think _that_ is a little more than forward.' _Arthur rolled his eyes as he wrote the next part, and threw it back. However, his aim was, sadly, a little off. The paper missed Alfred's desk and instead soared over his head to hit Mei, who sat to his left. She gave him a weird look and picked up the paper from where it had fallen to the floor. She was nearly on the verge of opening it when Alfred lunged, grabbing it from her hand. Phew, that was close…

"Jones!" came a sharp voice from the front of the classroom, "What are you doing?" He spoke too soon. Alfred sat bolt upright and tried his best to not look guilty – with little success.

"I was, err…" his eyes darted around, "Composing a song!"

Bad move.

"Is that so?" said Mr. Edelstein, without a trace of sarcasm, "Well, we must hear it. Come up here and read it to the class." A cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh erupted from two desks to the American's right. Sending a look that could kill, Alfred desperately searched for an excuse.

"It's not finished yet, Sir."

"That is fine. Maybe I could accompany it on the piano", he walked over to the instrument and sat down. Arthur's 'coughing fit' got worse.

"Um, Sir, I really don't think-"

"NOW, Jones."

_My life is over, my life is over, my life is over… _Alfred thought to himself, as he slowly made his way to the front of the classroom. Fortunately, Mr. Edelstein's piano lid was most definitely down – at least that was one further embarrassment averted. All eyes upon him, he took a deep breath, and began;

"Dear my most precious and valued friend." That bit wasn't so bad. "I have to tell you something extremely important, that I have been hiding from you my whole life. Every day, the only one that occupies my thoughts is you. You, you are the only one I dream of, the only one I have ever loved in this way."

"Every time I see your wonderful, luscious brown hair…" Alfred paused, wishing he didn't have to read the next part, "All I can think of is pouring rich, milk chocolate over your statuesque muscles." The class burst into fits of laughter. Alfred blushed bright red and read on;

"When I wank (every night from all the tension my burning love causes me) you are the only person who comes – in more ways than one – into my fantasy," the class laughed even louder, waking Feliks, who looked around sleepily.

"Not cool guys," he muttered, "I'm tryna' sleep..."

"Your smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," said Alfred, grateful he was now on slightly safer ground, "It lights up my day like the Sun, and it makes me the happiest man in the world just to see you happy." A collective 'Aaw' came from the students.

"The only thing better than your smile," Alfred gritted his teeth, "Would be your face of pure pleasure as I thrust into you with my ten inch schlong."

"How very romantic of you!" catcalled Francis from the middle row of desks. Trying his best to ignore him, Alfred continued.

"Everything I do, I try to make you notice me. But sometimes, it feels almost as if we are drifting apart," he said, "It seemed like only a day ago, we were sat side by side in togas. Now, I barely get to see you." Alfred sighed, defeated.

"When we next see each other, be prepared to be pounded into the mattress as a gesture of our everlasting bond," he said flatly, without any trace of emotion. This time, there was an awkward pause, before several people began to giggle, before the class erupted into hysterics. Again.

All he could say was that Mr. Beilschmidt had better be damn grateful. It wasn't everyday you suffered public humiliation for the sake of someone who hated your guts. And also, he _really_ needed to cut out the parts Arthur wrote…

"Although I appreciate the artistic merit," said Mr. Edelstein dryly, "I must criticise your originality. Using lines from amateur movies is not acceptable. E minus." He stood up and turned back to the board as if nothing had happened, "You may return to your seat."

Trying not to meet anyone's eyes, Alfred trudged to his seat at the back of the classroom. He'd known it; Arthur had been nicking lines from porn films! Wait… his eyes opened wide. How did Mr. Edelstein know?

_Were all of his teachers perverts?!_

* * *

The lesson over, the students filed out of the classroom, all fully ready to impart the events of Alfred's humiliation to their peers. A few minutes later, the music teacher also left, leaving the two boys alone. Arthur began to pack up rather more quickly, as Alfred advanced on him. He laughed nervously.

"Why, hello love," he said, hastily shoving his pencil case into his bag and backing towards the wall, "Nice lesson?" Alfred slammed his hands either side of his boyfriend's shoulders, stopping him from moving.

"And just what…" he said dangerously, "Was that…?" Arthur avoided Alfred's icy stare guiltily.

"I didn't _mean_ to miss…"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" Alfred yelled, "Now the whole school will think I'm some sort of pervert-"

"They already suspected it…" said Arthur. Alfred raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and that's your fault as well." Arthur couldn't argue with the truth.

"How about I make it up to you?" asked Arthur, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's waist and pressing their lips together. He pulled Alfred's chest to his own as he kissed him, sighing happily when he felt Alfred's hands stroke through his hair. Several minutes later, they broke apart.

"Are you still mad?" he asked softly, looking up at his boyfriend through his eyelashes.

"Yes."

"…"

"And now we'll have to rewrite the whole letter!" Alfred snapped, the romantic moment lost.

"Why?" asked Arthur, "What's wrong with this one?"

"Oh I don't know…" said Alfred sarcastically, "The fact that our whole class knows exactly what it says?"

"Good point," said Arthur, sighing, "Come on then." He dumped his bag on the nearest desk and sat down, pulling out some more paper and a pen. Alfred sat down and pulled up another chair for the shorter boy.

"Let's just get this done quickly," he said.

* * *

Unknown to the pair, three pairs of eyes were watching them. Francis, Gilbert and Antonio peered around the door. Francis, who had eagerly rushed to the door to get the best look, was now half-shoved to the floor, as the other two leaned over him – creating a highly unstable pile that could collapse at any moment. Francis glared up at his friends.

"Look, you missed it, alright, so let's go," he sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket. On it, were several, let's just say incriminating photographs, of everyone from Ivan Braginsky to Matthew Williams, and even a good number of the teachers. Useful bargaining material for when one didn't want a detention, as the Frenchman had discovered over the years.

"I don't see why we needed to come and see this anyway," grumbled Antonio, "I mean, everyone makes out in classrooms…" Francis sighed and shook his head.

"It's not that I'm looking for," he insisted, "That note Alfred had to read out, that note wasn't for Arthur." Two pairs of eyes turned to him.

"How do you know?" Gilbert asked.

"It wasn't about Arthur," said Francis thoughtfully, "At what point did he ever have brown hair? Or statuesque muscles? Or a _toga_? It all seems very suspicious…" he trailed off.

"How is it suspicious?"

"Well it wasn't for Arthur, as I've just said…" pondered Francis, "But Arthur seemed to know an awful lot about it, and didn't look the slightest bit bothered when he was reading it out."

"Duh," said Gilbert, rolling his eyes, "Because he helped write it."

"How do _you_ know?" interjected Francis. Gilbert grinned.

"I had to check his internet history in detention yesterday. I checked out some of the videos that were there and the dialogue matches parts of that letter exactly." Francis' eyes narrowed.

"Oh? What videos were they?" he had already grabbed his phone and opened a new note. Gilbert waved his hand dismissively.

"That's not the point," he leaned in conspiratorially, "The point is, they're both in on writing a love letter to someone else. And we need to find out who."

"Why?" Antonio asked, "And will it take long? I have a date with Lovino tonight…" Francis laughed.

"Just think," he said, smirking and leaning in, "Of all the stuff we could do if we found out. Blackmail, substituting the note, accidently telling the students, accidently telling the _teachers_…" he grinned, "The possibilities are endless. I have a feeling this one's going to be good."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading! I'm going to let you work out which one of them wrote which part of that note… Please do leave a review! ^_^


	7. Period 7: Lunch (Part 1)

A/N Hello again! This is a really long chapter (well, by my standards), so I've split it into 2 parts. Thankyou to Sho-chan669 for reviewing, and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Polarbear1805 – I couldn't decide which of your ideas to use… So I settled on both.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Alfred was in a bad mood the next morning. Not only had he had to miss his pure-and-innocent-cuddling-special-time with Arthur, he'd also had to write that stupid letter, _again_, all on his own (he'd politely refused Arthur's offer), and on top of that, apparently he hadn't been polite enough in said offer, because now the shorter blonde wasn't even talking to him.

Why yes, his day was going _wonderfully._

The American stomped down the hallway, alone, towards science class, his blood boiling and with an overwhelming urge to punch something.

* * *

Alfred glared at the back of his boyfriends head, completely ignoring whatever Mrs. Karpusi was trying to teach them about, um, sunflower seeds? He rested his head on the desk, oblivious to the ominous sounding chatter from his adjacent desks. He just wanted to sleep…

Suddenly, a loud ringtone sounded from Alfred's pocket. The entire class turned around to look at him, causing him to swear loudly and reach into his pocket. Mrs. Karpusi narrowed her gaze, as he pulled out the phone.

_1 new text from: Heartless Bastard _

Alfred, having taken the liberty to change his boyfriend's contact name, knew exactly who it was from.

_When are we planting the note? _

Alfred glowered at the seat in front of him, as he punched in a reply.

**Did you have to ask me now? Thanks for making even more embarrassing moments for me. **

_*sigh* Get over it. And we need to do it soon. _

**I will not get over it! And I know! Sheesh. **

_So when? _

Alfred gave up. They could (would) always argue later, and after going through all this shit, they could at least finish what they'd set out to do.

**Lunch. We can just pretend we're going to go and grope each other in a cupboard or something. **

_It's quite sad that people accept that as a plausible explanation._

To be honest… Alfred had to agree. After that one (or two, three, four, ten…) times they were caught in compromising situations, people tended to jump to conclusions.

However true they may be. But that's another story.

* * *

Boring lessons came and went, and eventually it was lunchtime. By this point, Alfred had long since completely forgotten about their plan, and was taken completely off guard when he was dragged out of the queue by a very angry Brit.

"What the hell took you so long?" Arthur demanded, scowling at Alfred.

"Well I'm _terribly sorry_ that I need to eat," replied Alfred dryly, "And I was at the front! Couldn't you have brought yourself to wait for the, oh, 60 seconds it would have taken me to get a burger?!"

"No I couldn't," Arthur scowled, "That 60 seconds could be all the difference!"

"Ugh, what's gotten into you today?" asked Alfred sourly, "You're being even more of a bitch than usual…"

"And just what is that supposed to mean?!" Arthur retorted.

"Trouble in paradise, is it?" came a crooning voice from behind the quarreling pair. Francis swooped in the second they turned around, forcing himself between them and draping an arm around each of them. Arthur scrunched up his nose as if recoiling from a bad smell as the blonde tried to grope him, and pushed the Frenchman away.

"Go away," he snapped, "Don't you have a girlfriend to molest or something?"

"Non, they're all away today…"

"They?" Francis waved a hand dismissively.

"Why of course! I must spread l'amour to- WHERE ARE YOU TWO GOING?!" he whipped around, to see Arthur pull Alfred into a side corridor.

* * *

Eventually, the pair slowed to a halt, both of them out of breath and panting slightly. From the uncertain look on Arthur's face, the American figured that they were both equally lost. Alfred leaned against the wall, and tried to figure out their location. They'd taken a right after running away, then a left, and another left, then an, um…

"You know," said Alfred, "It's all well and good escaping from Francis…" he looked around the hall, "Except now I have _no idea where we are_."Arthur looked around, his face blank.

"I didn't even know this bit of the school existed…" Deciding to put their argument to the side for a moment, Alfred walked over to one of the rooms leading off the corridor, and gingerly opened it.

"…"

"What is it?" Arthur asked. Worried, he went over to Alfred.

"Now I know why this place looks unfamiliar."

The classroom looked like a bus had crashed through it. A black, tar-like substance covered all the surfaces, and an odd, red liquid was splashed across the floor. Smog hung in the air, obscuring the back of the room from view, but Alfred could just make out the jagged remains of what used to be a desk, twisted oddly against the wall as if thrown there by some sort of explosion. Pieces of jagged glass littered the floor from the broken windows, and what almost looked like a skull was resting underneath them.

"The old cooking classroom…" said Arthur quietly.

"That explosion was so bad that it actually posed a chemical biohazard…" Alfred continued, "They had to get a hazardous waste disposal team in…"

"Yeah…" said Arthur, still staring around at the destroyed classroom.

"You know," Alfred replied, "It's probably not the best idea for us to be down here."

"They said it would be safe in about 10 years," Arthur remembered, "So it's been about-"

"Three and a half!" yelled Alfred, "Quick Artie, we need to get out of here!" He grabbed his boyfriend's hand and pulled them both away from the smoking remains.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right office?" Arthur asked, pausing. Alfred pointed to the placard.

_Mr. Vargas_

"Yeah, about 50% positive," he said, rolling his eyes. Arthur shot a glare in his direction, but said nothing. Alfred peered through the glass panel on the door to check that no one was inside, before turning and nodding to the shorter boy. He slowly pushed open the door and slipped inside.

"Dun, dun dun dun, dun, dun dun dun, dun, dun dun dun, dun, dun dun…" he hummed, "dun dun duuun, dun dun duuuuun, dun dun dun, dun! Dun du-"

"Alfred!" hissed Arthur, "Be quiet and take this seriously!"

"Every hero needs cool backing music," snapped Alfred.

As they argued, a tall, Spanish boy poked his head around the corner of the hallway and smirked.

"You guys," he whispered to his companions, "I've found them…" There was a rush of feet, as Francis and Gilbert caught up with him.

"Professor Vargas?" asked Francis, scratching his head, "That seems like quite an odd target."

"Who cares, kesese?" asked Gilbert, "That's going to make it twice as funny when he sees _our _version of a love confession." He laughed loudly, almost giving them away before Antonio elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

"Hurry up, amigos! Now we've found out the target, we can proceed to Step Two." All three boys shared a wicked grin, before slipping away.

* * *

"Did you hear something?" asked Arthur, hearing what sounded like a choking noise from the hallway. Alfred shook his head.

"Nope." He looked around, before spotting the desk in the corner of the room, "Come on and pass me the note." Arthur reached into his pocket and drew out the piece of paper. Well, to be correct, several pieces of paper. He handed them all to Alfred.

"There, it's one of them." Alfred looked down in disbelief at the pile of notes that seemed far too large to fit into one boy's blazer pocket.

"What are these?" he asked. Arthur scratched his head.

"I think some are caricatures of Mr. Beilschmidt," he replied thoughtfully, "A few are lists of ways to kill Francis. Okay, maybe more than a few…" he drifted off into thought for a moment, gave a terrifying grin, then shook his head and continued; "about half are lists of videos-"

"What videos?"

"You don't need to know that," said Arthur quickly, "There's a few old letters about not copulating behind the bike sheds…"

"I remember those days," said Alfred fondly, remembering, "That assembly was brilliant." He adopted an Italian accent and stood up very tall. "_Students, it is very important that romancing behind the bike sheds is kept to a minimum! Please find a more sensible place! If you're mature enough to do that, and I've seen it all, thanks to the positioning of my office window, you're mature enough to find somewhere less obvious to do it! Like the caretaker's cupboard… I heard it was empty on Wednesday afternoons when it's his day off…"_ Alfred turned around and began to imitate another teacher. "_Um, Professor, I don't think that was the point…_"

Both boys paused to laugh, until Arthur remembered that he was supposed to be angry with his boyfriend and stopped, glared and looked away. Alfred turned and looked out of the window – the Professor had been right, there _was_ a good view of behind the bike sheds from here… And of course, the couple passionately making out behind it.

"Oh come on, were you expecting that assembly to have worked?" asked Arthur sarcastically, joining him. Unable to resist, he squinted to try to get a closer look at who it was. Gossip was power, after all.

"Who is it?" Alfred asked, also trying to see who it was. Arthur made a noise of quiet surprise.

"Well, it isn't one of the Bad Touch Trio for once," he said. Alfred finally recognised the kissing pair, and reacted in a different way.

"Whoah, I never knew Ivan swung that way!" he exclaimed, pulling out his phone to take a picture, "Just wait until I tell everyone! His reputation is going to be totally ruined… And that guy who's with him too…" he squinted, "I can't quite see him from here..." The American was on the verge of manic laughter, when Arthur interrupted him.

"You do know the homosexuality rate amongst guys in our school is almost 100% right?" he said, "It shouldn't come as that much of a surprise."

"Makes you wonder what makes it so high…" pondered Alfred, "Maybe it's something in the water."

_Le Flashback~_

_Elizaveta was on a mission. Wearing the ninja outfit that Kiku had leant her (such a nice young man!), she crept towards the school's bottom floor storeroom, where the water filter was kept. Unable to resist an evil laugh, she opened her bag and pulled out the result of all her laborious years of research. Lightning dramatically flashed across the sky outside, as she quickly opened the filter and set to work installing the device. _

"_Hehe~" she cackled, a dark grin spreading across her face, "That's the last time pesky real life tries to interfere with my yaoi…" She made to leave, making sure to leave no hint that she was ever there._

"_And remember…" she said to the empty room, "They're all gay… They just don't know it yet." Another dramatic flash of lightning, and the history teacher was gone. _

_End Flashback~_

"Don't be ridiculous," said Arthur, rolling his eyes again, "That's just stupid. And we're running out of time," he added, looking at his watch.

"Okay, we need to find the note," said Alfred, putting the pile down on the table and beginning to root through it."

"And I think some of those notes are recipes…" said Arthur thoughtfully. Alfred's face paled, and he discreetly slid the offending pieces of paper into his own pocket, for disposal (incineration) later. Finally, he found what looked like the real thing, and held it up triumphantly.

"Great!" he cheered, "Now we can get this over with and get the hell out of here!"

Almost as if he had jinxed it, distant voices suddenly entered hearing range.

"Well it was nice talking to you, Wilhelm," came a happy voice from outside the doorway, "But I have to sign some boring papers now!" Footsteps sounded from the hallway outside, and they were only getting closer. Arthur and Alfred froze.

"Alright then," came another voice, "I'll talk to you later…" The voice sounded quieter than usual, with a hint of what almost seemed like sadness.

"Wilhelm, are you okay?" The first voice now sounded concerned. A heavy sigh came from his companion.

"I'm fine. Well, I will see you in the meeting this afternoon." The second man's footsteps faded, and before the two boys had registered it the doorknob began to turn. Panicking, the only thing Arthur could think of was rugby-tackling Alfred into a conveniently placed large cupboard.

Slamming the door behind them, it quickly occurred to him that this approach had made rather a lot of noise. Alfred, who had had his head smacked against the solid wood of the furniture, tried to cry out in pain, but Arthur pressed a hand over his mouth. They waited with baited breath.

"That's strange, I'm sure I heard something…" the head teacher's voice said from outside the cupboard. Both boys backed further into the cupboard, even more so when they heard the metallic ting of a weapon being drawn.

"If you're a burglar," Professor Vargas said powerfully, "You should know that my gladiator training was second to none. I always did find it quite fun… The emperors were less than appreciative, but it was a great hobby for me. My favourite time was…" The intimidating tone lost, the Professor continues to babble about 'the good old days', seemingly lost in reminiscence.

Arthur felt around inside the surprisingly spacious cupboard, and to his surprise, found a long robe and several togas, rather than the books and stationary supplies he had been expecting.

"Huh?" he exclaimed quietly.

"You know what this means Artie?" asked Alfred, a small grin appearing on his face. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"If you're going in make an in the closet joke about this…" he said warningly.

"… Damn you."

* * *

A little longer than a few minutes later (an amount of time making Arthur almost certain he was missing his geography class – dammit, he would fail again!), the talking stopped, and a dull scratching of pen on paper could be heard, coupled with a few final remarks about 'Good ol' Julie… That Brutus was a swine though…' Having never heard the Professor grumble before, Alfred had to suppress a laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

However, after what seemed like five hours (but was really only about ten minutes), both Arthur and Alfred were thinking the same thing; When will this end?! It was stifling in the closet – just warm enough to make you drowsy, but not hot enough so you needed to take your blazer off. Arthur rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, fanning himself with his free hand and on the verge of falling asleep. Alfred snaked an arm around Arthur's waist and pulled him closer, a small sigh coming from both of them as they cuddled. He pressed his face into the shorter boy's hair, and stroked his back softly. Arthur nestled under the crook of his boyfriend's arm, wrapping his own arms around Alfred's chest.

It occurred to them then that they were in fact, very, very bad at falling out.

"Hm, I'm sorry babe," slipped out of Alfred's mouth before he could stop himself. Arthur squeezed him softly.

"Me too," he said, before insecurity flitted across his face, "But you don't actually think I'm a bitch, do you?"

"Sometim-" was almost out of Alfred's mouth, before he was saved by a cheer from the Professor's desk.

"Aaand that's all done!" came the chirpy voice from outside the door, "Now I can go take my siesta~" The telltale sounds of a heavy chair scraping along the floor and papers being filed away, followed by footsteps, and, after what seemed like an eternity, the closing of the door. After a long minute, Arthur carefully untangled himself from his boyfriend and nudged the door open. Relieved that the room was empty, he crept out, quickly followed by Alfred.

Not hanging around this time, he slammed the slightly (only slightly…) crumpled piece of paper down on the desk, grabbed the door, pulled it open and started to run. The American closed the door quietly, before sprinting to catch up.

"I can't believe we pulled it off, Artie!" he said loudly, once they were out of the administration building, "This is way too good to be true!"

"Yeah…" Arthur replied, "It is…" An ominous feeling of doom began to settle over him.

* * *

**Meanwhile, in the school office…**

"Dammit!" cursed Gilbert, "Where is the fucking button?"

"This technological _merde _is harder than it looks," Francis whined in agreement.

"Maybe we should ask one of those guys for help," said Antonio, gesturing to the two men tied up in the corner of the room. Gilbert shook his head frantically.

"Nein, it took long enough to get those guys out of the way! We are not letting them ruin our awesome prank." With that, he kept sifting through the untidy desk. "How many control panels do you need for one tiny school anyway- Ooh, this looks interesting…" He stopped. The other two turned to look at what he had found. Underneath a mound of paperwork, hidden by a blacked-out sheet of plastic, was a big, red button.

_Do not press, _the text underneath it read.

"Mmmmmfh!" one of the men in the corner tried to shout, his brown hair falling across his face as he struggled. The other simply shook his head frantically and widened his blue eyes, a look of panic flitting across his features. Ignoring them, the trio leaned in curiously.

"Oh come on," said Gilbert eventually, "Were they really expecting us not to?" He slammed his hand down on the button.

'_Attention, attention," _came a booming voice over the intercom, _"Attention please. The following is an important announcement. Please listen carefully and follow any instructions." _

'Jackpot!' Antonio mounted to the other two. Gilbert pulled out his 'script' and began to fulfil what the infamous Bad Touch Trio had so cleverly named… _Step Two_. Francis hummed a few dramatic chords for effect, as Gilbert prepared to speak.

"Mein friends," said Gilbert, trying to sound official, "We are gathered here today for the most important of reasons." Francis gave the German a thumbs up, and he continued, "Today, we celebrate the coming together of two people, in more ways than one if everything turns out well kesesese…" Antonio gave a short laugh. "Today…"

Gilbert had reached the blank gap on his paper. Francis grabbed some paper ('_Final Grade Records'_ weren't that important, right?) and quickly scribbled 'PROFESSOR VARGAS!' Gilbert nodded, mouthing 'I knew that...' Francis smirked sarcastically.

"Our beloved Professor Vargas will finally learn about the one person who will put up with him. The one and only-" he looked towards Francis, but the Frenchman only shrugged. Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), the name of the head teacher's suitor was the only detail that had alluded the trio. Cursing under his breath, Gilbert regained his composure.

"Well, he'll just have to find out." He managed to crack one of his usual mischievous grins, "I hear that there's a hint waiting in your-"

"OVER THERE!" came a bellowing voice, "THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE OFFICE!" Francis took a look out of the open-fronted door and gave a small shriek.

"Your grandfather," he shouted to Gilbert, "Let's get out of here!" The trio threw open the door and ran, sincerely hoping that the PE teacher didn't recognise their rapidly retreating backs.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur turned to look at each other.

"What…" Alfred began slowly.

"The hell…" Arthur continued

"Was THAT?!" Alfred demanded, turning as if trying to spot the perpetrator, "Fuck, now everyone knows!" Arthur sighed.

"Yeah, so much for us being subtle…"

"At least they didn't completely blow Mr. Beilschmidt's cover…" said Alfred. Arthur nodded and walked a few more steps, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks.

"Wait, since when did _we_ care?"

"Heroes care about everyone," said Alfred adamantly.

"… But you hated that guys guts a few days ago." The taller boy waved a hand dismissively.

"Details, details…" he pushed open the door to their geography classroom, "But I think we have more pressing things to worry ab-"

"JONES, KIRKLAND, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU TWO BEEN?!" came the angry screech of the teacher. Everything suddenly became normal again, as the pair stepped inside and prepared to face the music.

"Will the we-were-too-caught-up-in-throes-of-passion excuse work, Miss?" Alfred offered tentatively. The teacher walked over to the desk and drew out a small, black book that read 'Rules' on the cover. Checking it, she gave a small sigh.

"No," she said, "That reason is only valid on February 14th and other romance-associated occasions and holidays."

Alfred didn't even care that they had to write lines for the rest of the lesson. He had just discovered the best school rule ever.

* * *

"And your homework today is…"

Arthur reached into his blazer pocket for his pen, but was surprised when his hand instead met the telltale texture of paper. Not any paper, the special, smooth silky feel of expensive paper, like they type they used to wri-

Oh shit, no… This was not what he thought it was… Arthur pulled the paper out of his pocket and read it to himself.

_Dear Julius, my most valued friend,_

Arthur's face paled, and his hand shook as he slowly replaced the paper in his pocket. If he had the real note…

_What the hell was on Mr. Vargas' desk?_

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading, and please do leave a review~ ^_^

And no prizes for guessing who caused that explosion ;)


	8. Period 7: Lunch (Part 2)

A/N Part two! I may come back to this and improve it later, but I really can't think of anything to add to it now. I am so tired but I was determined to get this chapter up today! Thank you to Sho-chan669 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

* * *

"Shit, piss, fuck, cunt…" Arthur mumbled angrily under his breath, holding his head in his hands and looking down at the note. The note that should be on Mr. Vargas' desk. Did fate have it in for him, or was this punishment for picking all the four leaved clovers in the field to make Viagra to put in the school drinking fountain? Probably the latter… But he'd only wanted revenge! That Frog had replaced all his uniform with Playboy bunny girl outfits the day of his media exam. His media exam that was filmed.

So his revenge was totally justifiable. The thing was, Francis only drank wine… But such irrelevant details hadn't undermined his plan at all, and it had all worked beautifully! Until the point when he himself forgot about the Viagra and… BUT ANYWAY.

"Cocksucker, motherfucker, t-" he continued, trying to clear his head of all the obscenities he really, really wanted to direct at something other than his desk, pencil case and half full, G-grade(at best) geography book.

"KIRKLAND!" yelled the teacher, rolling her eyes, "If you have something to say, why don't you tell the class?"

"But you don't understand!" the blonde half yelled, "You don't, none of you do!" his eyes darted over to where his boyfriend was watching him; "Even Alfie doesn't know" I'm… We're…" Unable to finish, he ran out of the classroom, to the bemusement of his peers. The teacher only rolled her eyes and turned back to the board.

"Jones, go after him," she said, not turning around, "And then take him to the nurses, she'll be able to take you through the options." Confused, yet glad he didn't have to go through the final half hour of geography, Alfred grabbed his bag and walked towards the door. The teacher sighed, "And make sure to use protection next time." Alfred stopped dead.

"Um… What?" he asked slowly. The teacher turned and put on a voice akin to one a person would use to a five year old.

"Well whatever you decide to do, I hope it's the right decision," she said condescendingly, "I always knew this would happen at one point, but why did it have to happen in _my_ lesson?" Clueless, Alfred stared at his teacher.

"Um, what would happen, Miss?"

"… I really pity that kid, growing up with fathers like you two…" she sighed, shaking her head in sympathy.

"Kid?" Alfred frowned, "Miss, we don't have a kid…"

"You don't yet, Jones, you don't yet," the teacher said, looking as if she wanted to smack her head against the whiteboard.

"Wha-" he struggled to say, "How is that even possible?" The teacher only shrugged.

"I'm in geography, hun. Biology is downstairs."

* * *

Wow, thought Alfred, as he walked along the corridor, looking around for any sign of the other boy. That teacher was weird… But, his mind immediately began to overflow. What if he was? Oh shit… Oh shit shit shit shit… What would happen to them? What would everyone say? Would they even be allowed to stay at the Academy?

"Don't worry Artie!" he blurted out, "I'm going to support you and we can keep it and we'll raise it really well and we don't have to drop out and I'll be a great father and it won't hurt when you have it I promise I'll be there with you and it'll all be fine and I can drive you to the hospital and-"

"I didn't hear a word of that," Arthur interrupted, raising an eyebrow, "But it's good you're here, we have a problem…" he lowered his voice.

"What?!" Alfred demanded, "How could that be more important than our baby?!"

"… Baby?"

"Yes!" said Alfred, grabbing Arthur around the waist and stroking his stomach. Arthur turned to glare at his boyfriend.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Huh, no!" the taller boy said, "Unless you're that far along…" he pouted, "You could have told me sooner, you know…" Arthur's face had turned from anger to confusion.

"Told you what?" he asked.

"That you're pregnant!" The sound of that statement echoed rather loudly off the cavernous ceiling of the hallway, probably carrying all the way back to the room where their entire class was waiting to get a hint of the new gossip.

"…"

"…" They both stood in silence for at least a minute.

"Alfred…" said Arthur slowly, "Why would I be pregnant?"

"Because we didn't use protection!" Alfred said, despairingly, "I knew I should have listened! Now our kid will grow up knowing that he or she was an accident!"

"Alfred, I'm male."

"So?"

"It's the only possible explanation," said Alfred huffily, "Don't worry, _I_ didn't realise it until Miss told me…"

"That's not even biologically possible! Why the hell would you think that?! Why the hell would _she_ think that?!" demanded Arthur, "Something else in the water?"

"_Nah," came a disembodied, eastern European voice, "The doctors told me if any pregnant teenage boys showed up at their surgery, they were going to tell the police I nicked their PET scanner and used it to create a Yaoi machine…" _

"… Did you hear that?" Alfred asked. Arthur just curled his hand around his boyfriend's, and slowly pulled him away from the small, black camera embedded into the wall.

"Let's just go…" he said. Alfred only nodded, staring at the camera. Their argument over, he tugged the other boy down the hallway.

* * *

"So it was just that note thing then?" said Alfred, trying to keep his face neutral. However, inside he was far more relieved than he was prepared to admit.

"What's that look for?" Arthur asked aggressively, "How is that good? Mr. Vargas is going to see it and we'll have fucked everything up and UGH!" he tried to throw a punch at the wall, but Alfred caught his fist.

"Um, babe…" he said, stroking the Brit's hair to try to calm the boy down, "Heh, it's not that much of a big deal… We can just put the right one on some other time…"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" snapped Arthur, "I'll go on my own then!" He began to march down the corridor, before turning, a sheepish grin on his face. "Err… You don't know where the Prof's office is, do you?"

"You're hopeless," Alfred sighed, "I think it was, um, this way…?" He peered cautiously down a hallway that looked akin to a dark, creepy side alley, pimp, prostitute, and drug dealer included. Oh wait… Deciding it would be better not to ask, the American only raised an eyebrow at the Bad Touch Trio and backed away.

Several more wrong turns later, they finally found the right room. Sighing in relief, Arthur had almost rested his hand on the door when a loud voice cracked over the loudspeakers;

"_Attention, Attention. All students please report to the assembly hall immediately. I repeat, immediately. Failure to do so will result in your decapitation-" The_ voice was momentarily cut off, before starting up again, _"What do you mean I can't say that?! Stupid regulations… Alright then, your constant and varied progressive torture into the fiery depths of hell on Ear- WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT?!"_ The sound of breaking glass, and then a different voice took over;

"_What my college means to say," _it said, with a touch of exasperation, laced with menace, _"Is that you will have to dress as the stripper at our end of year parade. However, since many of you would probably like that, there are the alternate, worse options of obese crocodile woman, giant potato and guy covered in shit. It can be arranged for fitting to begin on the 8__th__ of-"_

"WHY THE HELL DID I LET JULIUS HIRE YOU TWO AS RECEPTIONISTS?" came a bellowing German voice, followed by the sound of something else smashing. A dull buzzing followed, before fading away to nothing. The two boys looked at each other.

"Personally, I'd go for giant potato," Alfred said, "You can be obese crocodile woman."

"Hell no," said Arthur, "I'm going as a stripper." An eerie glint appeared in his eyes. "I still have a few risqué outfits left from my pirate days… Maybe I could wear one of them." The speakers cracked to life.

"AMPHITHEATRE. NOW. OR YOU'LL BE LICKING THE BLOOD AND GUTS OF THESE DAMN RECEPTIONISTS OFF MY SHOES." Alfred paled slightly.

"Babe, maybe we should go…" he said, tugging on Arthur's arm.

"The note-" the shorter blonde began to say, but Alfred grabbed hold of his arm.

"I don't care. I'm not in the mood for cannibalism."

"I'm sure we could persuade them to revert to the stripper thing…"

"No," Alfred said firmly, "Firstly, they already hate us so the chances are at least minus 6000%," he leaned in closer, "Secondly, no one except me is seeing you in a stripper outfit." He brushed his lips against Arthur's cheek, straightened up and grinned. The shorter boy sighed.

"… To the assembly,"

* * *

Mr. Beilschmidt stood at the front of the amphitheatre, with a face like thunder. The sort of face that said; 'yes-I-know-this-is-only-a-mock-amphitheatre-but-someone-is-going-to-die-here-today'. The sort of face that looked more fitting for the final battle of a bad war film. The sort of face that was glaring directly at Arthur and Alfred.

"Y… You don't think this has anything to do with us, do you?" Alfred asked nervously.

"Hehe, no…" said Arthur, equally nervous, "Why… Why would we have done anything…? … Shiiiiit…" he buried his face in Alfred's jacket, "Just tell me when it's over."

"Thankyou for that," replied Alfred dryly, "I feel _so _much better." The PE teacher cleared his throat, and the whole room fell into fearful silence (except Feliks, who babbled on without a care until Mr. Edelstein leaned over and whispered something along the lines of '… Beethoven… piano… listen… me… 4 hours', after which he ran from the amphitheatre in fear).

"Hey, Wilhelm," Mr. Vargas said hesitantly, even he himself a little afraid, "Don't you think this is a little bit of an overreaction? It's just kids messing around, as usual…" Arthur noticed, a little guiltily, the look of sadness that flitted across the other teacher's face.

"It has come to our attention, as leading members of staff," the German began, "That certain pupils have carried out what can only be assumed to be a distasteful joke on ourselves." The assembled students, previously in varying stages of extreme boredom, were suddenly all ears. Sadly for them, Mr. Beilschmidt was most certainly not in the mood to impart all the 'juicy details', as a smirking Yong Soo had yelled from the back of the room.

"So we've given you a chance to own up to what you've done," said Mr. Vargas, "Our delightful receptionists had come up with some rather interesting suggestions that I am inclined to try should you do so." A wave of badly-disguised laughs fell across the room. "However, should you not, and we 'discover'…" For some reason, Arthur disliked the sound of that. "… That you were responsible, we shall place you in the arena at the bottom of this hall and you will FIGHT TO THE-"

"You will have to clean the school closet with nothing but your bed sheets, pillow and some bleach," said Mr. Beilschmidt, sounding oddly (or not) satisfied, "While wearing nothing but the schoolgirl outfits which I confiscated from Mr. Honda this morning…" Kiku sank a little lower in his seat. "During this, our photography students will have the opportunity to practise their 'blackmail shots', as I am aware they have been learning. However, to prevent any actual threats being made, an extensive album of the photographs will be available from the school shop for the bargain price of minus £0.01." He smiled and stepped backwards. Arthur and Alfred immediately paled.

The janitor's closet, or simply 'the closet', was the school's second most notorious make-out spot (after the 'classic' bike sheds), and the first most notorious cutting-class-to-have-sex spot. And everyone knew it. Who knows what might be splattered across the walls… Usually the lights were out, so Alfred had never cared to look (besides, he had more important things to be doing…)

"Well," said Mr. Beilschmidt, leaning back against the wall, "I'm waiting…" Neither boy moved. Whether paralysed by fear, or just hoping that somehow, somehow the teacher wasn't going to pick on them for once, they stayed firmly where they were. But, it was obviously them, wasn't it? They'd been there in that detention, they'd been the last ones in the room, they had the motivation, the ability, the opportunity and the poor alibi afterwards.

Fuck.

The PE teacher sighed. "Fine, whatever you want." He straightened up and walked to the centre of the hall. "Carriedo, Beilschmidt- You know very well I mean you Gilbert, stop looking at your brother, and Bonnefoy, get down here." Arthur and Alfred sat bolt upright, startled. Evidently, the confused yells from behind them showed that the trio were thinking the same thing. Slowly, slowly, Gilbert and Antonio stood up from the front row. There was silence in the hall as Francis made the long walk from the top of the steps, where he had snuck in late. Mr. Beilschmidt cracked an almost sadistic smile.

"You all know what will be happening to these three tomorrow," he said, "And I'm sure our photography class will enjoy the experience. Now, take these…" he handed a blue and white, frilly monstrosity to each of the boys, and then ushered them out of the stage door. "For the rest of you," he said, addressing the rest of the pupils, "You may leave. Return to your lessons." He waved a hand with unusual dismissiveness, before following the doomed three through the stage door. Distant, angry yelling could be heard within seconds – whether from the teacher or from the pupils, it wasn't clear.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur stood up to leave with their peers, still slightly shell shocked that it wasn't they who were now facing public humiliation. However, as soon as they reached the top of the steps, Arthur grabbed his boyfriends hand and dragged him towards the offices. For the third time today. Fortunately, this meant that they had some idea where they were going, which allowed Alfred to use some of his concentration to hum the tune of the Pink Panther. Which wasn't really applicable seeing as they were sprinting haphazardly down the corridor in plain view, but they had more important things to focus on.

Third time lucky, after all. Or, 'it'd-damn-well-be-or-someone-is-going-to-get-it' time lucky, as Arthur was currently thinking, as he threw open the office door. Pulling the note out of his pocket (and checking it was the right one this time), he threw it down on the desk. He reached over and quickly scribbled another sentence on the end.

_P.S. Sorry about those three jerks. They were trying to corrupt our pure, innocent love and tear our heated, sweaty bodies away from their moments of moments of unbridled passion and sweet lovemaking. My heart aches at the rift those twats drove between us and-_

Alfred pulled the pen out of his boyfriends hand and scribbled out the last two sentences. The Brit opened his mouth to protest, but Alfred pulled him away before he could start _that_ argument again. As they ran down the hallway for the last time, Arthur could almost taste the freedom on the tip of his tongue… Until he tripped over a wet floor sign and face-planted Francis' high-heeled shoes. Although, with all the bows, frills, too-short blue skirt and even a bow in his hair, it took him a minute to even notice.

"You deserved that." Was all the Frenchman said, before stalking away (the intended effect was ruined, however, by the fact that in that outfit it looked more like a flounce).

…

Alfred held the cloth to his boyfriend's cheek to ease the swelling on the large, shoe-shaped bruise that was forming there.

"Hm, we did it babe," he said sleepily, tired out from the day they'd had. He wrapped his arms around the other boy and pulled him in to his chest, resting his chin on top of his head and nuzzling his hair. Arthur leaned backwards and relaxed into the cuddle, enjoying the feeling of their limbs entwined together. Despite their best efforts to stay awake to celebrate their victory, they were both snoring within minutes, sprawled out across the sofa in an uncomfortable sleeping position that they were both going to regret in the morning – the cans of beer they had been planning to drink lying untouched in the corner.

The next day, Alfred couldn't help but keep a close eye on the two teachers in the following days. Although for the first day he saw nothing unusual to his dismay, by the second day he noticed the pair looking at each other far more than two friends should (believe me, he could recognise the signs from experience), and by the third day, Mr. Vargas was visibly limping and the German PE teacher was looking very satisfied. It didn't take a genius (which was fortunate because both Arthur and Alfred weren't exactly at that mark), to realise that for once, their plan had worked.

"You know, love," said Arthur, tracing his fingers down his boyfriend's arm lightly, "Since we've both done so well…" he pressed his body against Alfred's side and smirked, "I think we should reward ourselves~"

As the bedroom door slammed behind them, all that could be heard were Alfred's final words;

"So… Were you serious about that pirate stripper outfit?"

* * *

A/N Gah, I'm so tired… I'm not going to bore you with my complaining, so I'm just going to go pass out on the floor now.

Please review~!


	9. Period 8: Reflection

A/N Chapter 9! *honestly didn't think I'd get this far* Thanks to Sho-chan669 for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited!

Idea for this chapter comes from Sho-chan669 ^_^

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine *goes to sit in emo corner*

* * *

"Hmm…" sighed Alfred happily, laying down on their double bed and looking over at Arthur, "It's nice to play matchmaker, isn't it?"

"Hmph, I suppose so," Arthur huffed. Alfred grinned.

"Reminds me of when Francis helped us get together," he said, rolling over to face the shorter boy, "Do you remember?" Arthur smirked.

"How could I not?"

* * *

_Le flashback~_

_It was the first day of the school year, several years ago. Alfred, dropped off with his brother Matthew, had long since dragged them both over to the old treehouse, better known as that-falling-down-pile-of-sticks – well, it wasn't old or falling down then, but you get the point. The American had boxed off the top of the treehouse and was using it as a fort to do 'lots of cool hero stuff'. All the teachers thought it was really cute… _

_Well, until it went on for six hours and he missed all his lessons of the day. So when it came to day two, Alfred soon realised that he didn't know anyone. It was as if, in the first day, everyone had decided to group up into their cliques and never talk to anyone else. Ever. Except Matthew of course, but he'd vanished some time ago. Alfred had long since given up looking. _

_After several break times of loneliness, he came across a short, scruffy haired boy in the corner of the library (still a safe haven, with no signs of what was to become of it years down the line). He sat alone at a desk, in what a sign informed Alfred was the 'Classical Literature' section, surrounded with piles of books that seemed far too large for him. Of course, when Alfred told him this, all he got was;_

"_Go away! You're disrupting my reading time!" the boy glared. Alfred looked down at what he was reading. _

"_Why are you trying to read that? It's probably just stupid and boring anyway-" _

_*Slap* _

_All he got from that first meeting was a red mark on his cheek and a bruised ego, along with a very angry blonde who hated his guts. Which, of course, only made Alfred even more determined to try again. _

* * *

"_Sooo, I was thinking…" Alfred leaned over the boy's shoulder the next day, as he struggled to class under a mountain of textbooks, "'Cos I'm the hero and all, I thought I should help you with those." All the boy did in return was raise an eyebrow and turn away with a small remark;_

"_Please leave." Alfred glared._

"_No! You don't just refuse help from the hero," he pouted, "That's not how it works." He tried to grab the heaviest of the books, but the other boy moved his arm at the last moment, causing Alfred to knock all of his books onto the floor. _

"_Sir Winston!" the shorter boy yelled, diving to recover the heavy book. Deciding not to ask, Alfred bent down._

"_Sooo… Now can I help you carry those?" he asked, flashing his best smile. The boy finally gave a long suffering sigh and a glare that could fry bacon (in fact, this has been the only way to date Arthur has been able to make edible food). _

"_If you must." He dumped a pile of notes and textbooks into Alfred's arms and walked off. Alfred followed._

"_It's cute how you act like you're the one doing me a favour," he said brightly, "Where are we going?" _

"_Library," came the one word response. Alfred raised an eyebrow._

"_Not talkative today?" _

"_Am I _ever_?" Alfred thought on that for a few seconds._

"_Actually, yeah you are…" he said, "Like that time you were yelling at that kid about oil rigs or something and reduced him to tears. I heard he had to get therapy after that because you scared him so much because you're such a limey bastard and you don't know how to treat a little brother." _

"_Just… Shut up." They had reached the door to the library. The boy turned around to take his belongings from the American, "And you didn't happen to hear that story from my brother Peter, did you?" _

"_Eh, I think that was his name…" replied Alfred, struggling to remember, "Actually, what's yours?" The boy glared._

"_Fuck off." _

"_That's an unusual name," Alfred replied, raising an eyebrow, "Are you sur-" He turned to see the library door slam shut in his face and the boy gone. Narrowing his eyes, he yelled through the wood._

"_YEAH WELL I'M GOING TO FIND OUT ANYWAY!" he shouted, before realising how childish it sounded. Oh well. It _was_ true, he grinned to himself. _

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS IS A LIBRARY!" came the furious reply. _

* * *

"_Hey, Fuckoff! What's tonight's homework?"_

* * *

"_Fuckoff, I got this great new album! Want to listen to it?"_

* * *

"_Fuckoff~! Are you in my geography this year? I think we are… We should totally sit together."_

"_You most certainly are not. Go away." _

* * *

"_Hey Fuckoff, I got you a present!"_

"_Your leftover burger wrapper?" _

"_Yep!"_

"… _Do you want me to take out a restraining order?" _

* * *

"_Fuckoff, can I sit with you for lunch?"_

"_MY NAME IS ARTHUR OKAY, NOW LEAVE ME ALONE." Alfred grinned as he walked away. _

_Mission accomplished. _

* * *

"_Hey Artie-"_

"_Arthur," interjected the shorter boy. _

"_Precious Artiekins Darling Sweetheart," continued Alfred, ignoring the interruption, "Would you like to come and see my hero base?" _

"_Your… hero base?" said Arthur, slightly disbelievingly, trying and failing to avoid bursting into laughter. _

"_And just what is so funny?" Alfred demanded, "This is serious business!"_

"_Are you insane, or just delusional?" Arthur managed to force out through his laughs. _

"_I know how to play a game," said Alfred, deadpanning, "Now stop being so serious and come and be my backup, the world is in danger!"_

"_Oh… I get it now," mused Arthur, "However… My previous question still applies."_

"… _Let's just go," sighed Alfred. _

* * *

_Admittedly, the fort at this stage was in the finest state it had ever been, thanks to meticulous maintenance by one Alfred Jones. It was built in a tree near the edge of the school grounds, and only accessible via rope ladder or catlike-tree climbing skills (because who cares about getting down again?), with a small, thatched roof and one room underneath it. Up against one wall were lined all of Alfred's collectable action figures (for which he had raided the school's entire cereal supply), against the left wall was a collection of 'superhero capes' – again a product of the cereal (who knew boxes made such great armour?), an event that had came to be known as the Great Breakfast Heist. But that's another story._

_From the right wall, light poured in through a glassless window, and on either side of the 'door' (really just a flap made from an old coat of Mr. Beilschmidt's, which he believes to this day was eaten by badgers) were scrawled the words; 'Heroes only!'Alfred spread his arms triumphantly and looked proudly over at his 'friend'. _

"_This is stupid," said Arthur grumpily, looking around the small room. Alfred scowled._

"_Hey!" he snapped, "I didn't call your reading stupid!" _

"_Yes you did." _

"…"

"_And why is this cape made of cardboard?" Arthur asked._

"_DO YOU NOT REMEMBER MY HEROIC DEED?!" _

"_You blew up a cookery classroom and destroyed my lovely batch of scones in the process," scowled Arthur. _

"_It was in the way of my mission," said Alfred, without a trace of sarcasm, "And did you hear about the way I dived through that window to escape the teachers? It was so cool."_

"_Regardless," said Arthur coolly, "That cape is still made out of cardboard." Out of his bag, he pulled out a complete sewing kit, machine and bundle of suspiciously coloured fabric. _

"_Um… What's that?" Alfred asked, already knowing the answer._

"_Well I'm going make you a proper one," Arthur said, already unfurling the felt-ish material, "But only if you promise to wear it… I don't want all my hard work to go to waste."_

"_Sure," said Alfred, without thinking. However, a strange feeling of dread began to build in his stomach. He was yet to find out why. _

_Some time later… _

"_ARTHUR WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Alfred yelled. Arthur looked up and blinked._

"_Sewing you a cape," he replied, "Why, is there a problem?"_

"_YES!" shouted the taller boy, "HEROES ARE MANY THINGS! HEROES FIGHT DEMONS! HEROES KICK THE BAD GUYS ASSES! HEROES ACCOMPLISH AMAZING FEATS OF STRENGTH AND DEXTERITY! HEROES DO NOT WEAR _FLOWER EMBROIDERED CAPES_!"_

"_I thought it was a nice touch…" said Arthur. _

"_Why would you… What…?" asked Alfred, in a state of disbelief, "I mean, would _you_ wear it?"_

"_Yes." As if to demonstrate his point, Arthur picked up the offending piece of material and draped it around his own shoulders, "See?" Alfred had to admit, Arthur did look kind of… cute. But more in the fluffy kitten type of way, than the badass hero type of way. Probably because it was pink, with delicate red roses embroidered up the side… _

"_Yes, but just because it suits you doesn't mean it suits me!" Alfred said, scowling and turning away. The shorter boy huffed, taking offense. _

"_Why do you even keep going on about being a hero and all that?" he asked grumpily, gazing out of the window, the fabric of the cape touching just below his knees. _

"_Because I want to be your hero," Alfred replied adamantly, before he realised what he has said and stopped dead. Both boys were silent for a minute, as the awkwardness built up around them like a mighty pit of friendzone. Finally, Arthur spoke;_

"_Are you trying to hit on me?" he deadpanned. _

"_M-maybe," Alfred said quietly. Arthur turned around and looked at his self righteously. _

"_Well I'm sorry, but you'll have to try harder than that." And with that, he had left the fort and disappeared. _

_But hey, it wasn't total rejection. _

* * *

_Like a shark hunting its prey, that lunchtime a certain Frenchman hunted down Alfred and dragged him to an empty table._

"_So you want to win him over, non?" Francis crooned, snaking an arm around the American's shoulder, which he quickly shoved off. Just how exactly did he know that? Alfred wondered, panicking slightly. How quickly did news travel in this place?!_

"_I don't know who you're talking about," he tried to say, but his eyes gave him away._

"_Oh really," asked Francis, tilting his head to the side, "Don't patronise me, mon ami… We all know you and Arthur hired escorts and had a club disco in that fort of yours."_

"_What?!" exclaimed Alfred, "No! Where the hell did you get that idea?"_

"_I'm thinking more along the lines of, 'what idea will the school get about you two unless you admit you like Arthur Kirkland.'" Alfred scowled._

"_Yeah, I do like him," he said sulkily, "So what? What are you going to do about it?" Francis smirked and sat down at a table, beckoning for Alfred to join him._

"_S'il vous plait, this amour thing is tr_è_s facile," he said, pulling out a piece of paper, "All you need is a plan…" _

"_You're going to help me?" Alfred asked excitedly, "Thanks, you're great!"_

"_It will cost you thirty Euros," Francis finished. _

"… _I take it back." _

* * *

_Mrs. Karpusi's art class was everyone's favourite. This was due half to the exposure to beautiful paintings, murals and cultures… And half due to the fact she tended to sleep through their lessons and let the class run riot (or 'expressing their creativeness through interpretive dance which will later be portrayed through the medium of urns', as had been explained to Professor Vargas)._

_Unfortunately, the class now had to follow up on that lie. Sat in front of every student was a large vase shaped piece of pottery, with ominous amounts of black paint and even more ominous amounts of cleaning fluid. Alfred glanced across the room and saw Arthur gazing at his with a facial expression similar to one a person would make when faced with a ravenous lion. Francis nudged the other boy's side. _

"_Go and wait behind the paints. I'll handle the rest." With a smirk, he left, leaving Alfred just enough time to dart over to the large storage room and hide among the sets of 'baby blue' watercolours before he was spotted by their ever-nosy classmates. _

_Meanwhile, Francis sidled nonchalantly up to Arthur, who turned his usual smile (read: glare) on him. The Frenchman pouted._

"_Mon cher, that is no way to greet your childhood friend…" he threw out an arm flamboyantly, accidently on purpose knocking over Arthur's can of paint, coating not only the urn, but the entire desk as well._

"_Bastard!" snapped Arthur, standing up immediately and starting to wipe up the spillage with a cloth. He saw Francis begin to walk away, and yelled, "Oi, come back over here and help me!"_

"_Paint is over there," was all he got in reply, with a gesture towards Alfred's hiding place. _

_Arthur sure was taking his time cleaning up the paint. Francis began to wonder if he would actually get around to going to the cupboard. He hoped so. Francis Bonnefoy had a 100% track record of matchmaking and he wasn't keen to lose it any time soon. _

_Fortunately, after ten minutes (seriously, who needs that long… Francis mumbled angrily to himself), Arthur finally made the walk over to retrieve a new can of 'ebony' paint. He waited until the other blonde was inside, before slamming the door behind him and throwing himself against it to prevent escape. _

* * *

_Arthur heard the door slam, and turned around just in time to see Francis' grinning face. He hit the door several times and pulled at the handle, but to no avail. Alfred cautiously stood up from his hiding place._

"_Stupid wanker isn't going to let me out," he sighed finally to himself, before turning and seeing Alfred standing behind him. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself yelling in shock and took a few steps backwards._

"_Alfred! What… What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Alfred froze, suddenly forgetting everything he wanted to say. He tried to open his mouth, but only a few unintelligible syllables came out. Arthur tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Um, sorry… I didn't hear that."_

"_Willyougooutwithmeplease?" Alfred asked in a rush. Arthur turned around, mildly surprised. Alfred's heart froze in his chest. Alfred felt like he was going to die. This was so embarrassing, how could he have thought he would say yes, he was so stupid! Now Arthur would think he was a total creep and he's never talk to him again and he'd never be able to be his hero and they'd never talk again because it would just be too awkward and – _

"_Sure," Arthur shrugged. _

_Wait, what?_

"_I've been waiting for you to hurry up and get the balls to ask me for weeks, you twat." Alfred was speechless, and before he could stop himself something quite like _anger _began to bubble up inside him. He turned and glared at his new boyfriend._

"_Fuck you!" he snapped. _

"_Well I'm sure that'll come into the equation at some point," said Arthur airily, "Now come on, we have an urn to paint."Arthur reached up to kiss the taller boy on the cheek, before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the cupboard. As Alfred followed him, the only thought in his head was along the lines of;_

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

"… And they all lived happily ever after," said Alfred in a corny, cliché voice, draping an arm around his boyfriend. Arthur snorted.

"But love, you missed out the part two years later where we-" Alfred covered his mouth hastily.

"Okay, story time's over," he said hurriedly, "Time to go to sleep!"

"…"

"…"

"You know, Alfred," said Arthur, as they snuggled down together for another nights rest, "You never did try on that cape. And you did promise…"

* * *

A/N Yay to backstory! Hope you enjoyed and please leave a review :3


	10. Period 9: Public Embarrassment (Relays)

A/N ASDFGHJKL HOLIDAYS! (Translation: Hi). So this is based on an actual PE lesson I had… I have to admit, my mind immediately went into the gutter.

Thank you to Sho-chan669 and Fruitstogether for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

* * *

"Wonderful, just wonderful…" Arthur and the rest of Set Two PE gazed blankly across the bleak, muddy playing field, but even more at the stony faced teacher stood in front of it. He sighed, resigning himself to his sad, sad fate. '_Tell my family I hate them…_' he thought, as he walked slowly to his doom. Alfred, on the other hand, let out an unmanly squeak and dived behind the Brit, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

"Artie, he's stalking us!" he whispered.

"Alfred…" said Arthur slowly, "This is PE."

"Yea." Arthur sighed.

"Mr. Beilschmidt is a PE teacher."

"He's the stalker PE teacher!" Alfred insisted adamantly.

"We've had him as our PE teacher all year…"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, "It's a conspiracy to discover our every move and secret and use them against us…" Arthur raised an eyebrow at his boyfriends out of character behaviour.

"Too much sugar?" he asked.

"… Too much sugar."

* * *

"Unfortunately for the side of me that wishes to see you all suffer…" began Mr. Beilschmidt, glaring around at his class, "Mr. Vargas has informed me that it would be 'too cruel' to make you play football in this weather." The group of boys would have cheered… But they knew better than that. "So instead," continued the PE teacher, "We will be doing the eight hundred metre relay." A collective groan came from the students.

"But Sir," said Antonio "Isn't the relay just as muddy as football?"

"Yes," said Mr. Beilschmidt, "But it is the only sporting activity involving a playing field that Julius forgot to mention."

"Why was I expecting something like that…?" the Spaniard deadpanned.

"Moving on," the teacher continued, ignoring Antonio's comment, "I have split you into teams of four. Arguing with my decision will result in your eternal damnation to Set Seven PE. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir…" mumbled the class unenthusiastically.

* * *

"I hate that guy so much," stated Alfred and Ivan simultaneously.

"Aru," agreed Yao.

"What did we do to deserve this?" Arthur chipped in.

The four of them, '_Team Three_', were lined up on the starting line, wearing the characteristic Horrible Team Vests TM. Arthur sweatdropped as Alfred glared at Ivan over the top of his glasses, and gently tugged on his arm in a not-so-subtle way, guiding him to the back of their small line.

"So to demonstrate the changeover of the baton…" Mr. Beilschmidt continued, "I will need some volunteers…" Standing behind the lines of students, his eyes scanned the crowd of terrified faces. Alfred pushed Ivan and Yao in front of him and ducked down. Ivan, too busy watching Toris' scared face from the other side of the field, didn't notice, but Yao turned around.

"What are you doing aru?" he demanded.

"SSH!" emphasised Alfred, "That guy has it in for us." He gazed imploringly up at the pair, "Pleeease~?"

"So?"

"Just let us hide from him…" pleaded Alfred.

"And why should I let you do that aru?" Yao asked sharply.

"Because otherwise I'm telling the school you were 'becoming one' with Ivan behind the bike sheds," Alfred shot back,

"We were not becoming one we were kissing I wouldn't do anything like tha– fine, whatever." Yao snapped, turning back around. Alfred ducked down, pulling Arthur with him, making them both hidden by the other pair's shadow.

"So, those volunteers…" continued the teacher, scanning the crowd, "Jones, Kirkland! Get up here immediately!"

Ignoring Yao's badly concealed grin '_that's what you get when you try to blackmail aru_', Arthur and Alfred walked to the front of the class. Mr. Beilschmidt handed a baton to the taller boy with a look of contempt and gestured towards the barely visible track marked out in the mud- sorry, grass.

"You," he said to Alfred, "Stay here. Kirkland, stand ten metres away." Arthur walked to the spot, an uneasy feeling of dread (which by now he was far, far too used to) building in the pit of his chest. "Turn around," the teacher instructed, "One leg in front of the other so you can set off quickly. Put your left hand behind you so that Jones can give it to you with his right-"

"What?" said Arthur, turning around slightly startled.

"The baton, Kirkland. The baton," said Mr. Beilschmidt, rolling his eyes. "As I was saying, you should keep facing away from your partner, even after you receive it. It is important to trust your partner to do this properly, if one of you doesn't the whole manoeuvre could go wrong."

"Manoeuvre, Sir?" asked Alfred, his eyes wide, "What man-"

"AS I WAS SAYING BEFORE I WAS SO RUDELY INTERRUPTED," the teacher ploughed on, "After receiving the baton, the receiver must immediately speed up in order to get the baton to the next receiver. As Jones and Kirkland will now… hopefully… demonstrate." Arthur turned to look at his boyfriend and give a sympathetic nod.

"Keep facing backwards until the giver gives you the baton," barked Mr. Beilschmidt.

"He's giving me _what_?" asked Arthur, his eyes widening.

"Just… Stop talking. Both of you," said the teacher wearily, "Now commence the demonstration." Alfred tried to set off at full speed, instead sending a small flurry of dirt over his teachers new white trainers (oops…) and almost falling over. Catching himself and just stopping himself from falling, he looked sheepishly up at Mr. Beilschmidt.

"Um, Sir, I kind of can't…"

"Yes, I know it's a bit wet, but you'll just have to manage," the teacher sighed. Alfred began to run slowly, trying his best not to skid and faceplant the mud in front of the entire class. He was in the process of passing on the dreaded stick of wood (damn, that sounded dirty in his head…), when Mr. Beilschmidt's voice interrupted them.

"STOP! Grip your hand firmly around the baton…" the teacher lectured.

"Am I the only one thinking that that guy was doing something last night?" Alfred half-whispered to Arthur, who turned around and grinned, raising an eyebrow, but revealing that he was thinking the same thing.

"Don't turn around and take it, let them give it to you," snapped Mr. Beilschmidt. Alfred and Arthur couldn't help themselves – both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"And just what is so entertaining?" asked the PE teacher with a voice like ice. They both stopped, like rabbits caught in headlights.

"Um, well…"

"You see, err…" Mr. Beilschmidt gave up.

"Whatever, go back to your group." His eyes swept over the group. "I need some _other _volunteers… Wang, Braginski! Get up here now." The pair, who had up until now been watching with some amusement, paled. Alfred patted Ivan on the shoulder as he rejoined the rest of the group;

"Have fun with your _receiver_," he whispered, "I know your secret." Ivan only smiled and gazed down from his considerable height.

"You should know by now that's it's hardly a secret," he said happily, "Right Yao-Yao?"

"Huh? Yiwan, not in public aru!"

"Ow, ow, ow, Sunflower I'm sorry!"

Watching the fighting couple slowly make their way to the aura of doom wherein their PE teacher lay in waiting, Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders.

"Aren't you glad we don't fight like that?" he asked. Arthur looked back at him incredulously.

"Just who are you trying to kid?" he replied.

"No one! We don't argue, ever," Alfred insisted.

"Right," demanded Arthur, "So I guess all those fights we had over _everything _don't count!"

"Excuse me, we do not argue! The hero would never do something like that!" snapped Alfred, "You're just saying everything to disguise the fact that you can't actually think of a time!"

"Alfie, what are we doing right now...?"

"We're just having an ar- Oh..."

* * *

One incredibly awkward PE lesson later…

Covered in mud from head to toe, the teams trooped back towards the changing rooms, their moods at an all time low. In the distance, the faint sound of the ambulance that had taken Toris away after he tripped over Heracles' cat, skidded fifteen metres and faceplanted the wall could be heard. Which was why a very sulky Feliks was now complaining loudly about it being 'totally not fair', and a very annoyed Greek was being yelled at by a very angry teacher.

All in all, a typical day at Hetalia Academy.

Arthur and Alfred had emerged relatively unscathed, if looking as if they had just had an unfortunate run-in with a compost heap. Arthur's blonde hair looked more brown than anything else after he fell over a molehill, and Alfred's legs were completely coated after he stepped in a bog. A fucking bog. _Why the hell was there a bog in their playing field_?!

"By the way," Yao called back towards the pair, "That trampoline is coming on amazingly!" Arthur's face paled.

"What the hell? I thought that was scrapped!" he yelled back, "How did you get that past the staff? How could you do that to the library you're supposed to be preserving the books not destroying them for the sake of cheap entertainment-"

"It's so much fun winding him up," Yao grinned quietly to Ivan, as they walked away, "When do you think we should tell him it's all a hoax?"

"Never," replied Ivan, putting an arm around the Chinese boy.

* * *

A/N Because Fruitstogether asked what the Great Breakfast Heist was, please accept this bonus story~

_It was the dead of night, and all that could be heard across the school grounds was a soft rustling of the wind. A lone owl hooted from the treehouse. Leaves rustled in the hedges that lined the edges of the grounds, and above it all the full moon shone brightly, clearly, eerily. _

_Which was the reason why a very tired Alfred was carrying a backpack filled with antique silver cutlery (which Google had promised him would kill werewolves!), a massive pair of binoculars and five layers of coats (in various degrees of too-large). _

_The spare keys to the kitchens, which he had swiped from the caretaker's office at break, were just an afterthought. _

_He crept across the lawn, keeping his head and body low and close to the ground – hoping that this would make up for his top layer of coat being neon yellow. Reaching what he thought was the right door, he fumbled in one of the many pockets until he found what he was looking for. Putting the key in the lock and turning it, he hesitantly pushed the door open. Or so he thought. The heavy wooden slab wouldn't move an inch. That was when Alfred noticed that, as well as the key he had tried, there were many, many more. And they were all unlabelled. _

"_Why me?" he asked himself grumpily. _

_Some time later…_

_Alfred crept through the open door, the moonlight streaming through his only guide through the labyrinth of cooking appliances and cupboards. Finally, he found his target – a large storage container marked with one word; '_Breakfast_'. He opened it, the hinge creaking loudly as he did so. Several displaced bottles of milk teetered precariously on the top shelf, before falling and smashing next to Alfred's feet, causing him to cry out in surprise. _

_By the way, did we mention the kitchens were next to the teacher's quarters? _

_Sounds of movement could be heard from next door. Knowing he had only minutes, Alfred grabbed a conveniently placed food trolley from next to the container and began to pile on the one thing he was here for – the cereal. Thirty boxes of 'ReadyBics – We Promise it's Not Rebranded Dogfood' later, Alfred spun the trolley around and ran with it towards the door. He tried to push it through the door frame… Only to find that it was just too big to fit. _

_There were lights in the corridor outside now. Alfred looked around frantically for another exit and his eyes focused on a door on the opposite side of the room. Most importantly, a door which looked considerably larger than the side door he had snuck in through. Without a moment's hesitation, he dragged the trolley over to it, threw it open and set off. _

_The corridor was unfamiliar, and several times Alfred narrowly avoided running himself and his precious goods into a wall. Several minutes went by, and the kitchen (and the confused teachers now roaming it), was sufficiently far away. Stopping and wiping the sweat from his brow, Alfred took the boxes and began to open them – emptying the cereal onto the floor, taking the action figure from the inside and then carefully replacing the box. The large, random pile of food would surely confuse the cleaner in the morning, but that wasn't really Alfred's concern at this moment in time. He also discovered a coat draped on the bottom shelf of the trolley – deciding that it would look markedly suspicious if he handed it in at lost property the next day, he decided to keep it as well. _

_Suddenly, a torch beam reflected off the wall from around the corner (lights were too mainstream for the elite teachers of Hetalia Academy), and Alfred began to hear the tell-tale voices of three teachers. Panicking, he shoved himself and the trolley into the nearest room and waited with baited breath. Taking the time to look around his new surroundings, he discovered he was in a cookery classroom – one that had recently been used. Batches of what looked like muffins or cakes were lined up along the side, next to a large globe (around the size of a human head) but what piqued the boy's interest was the plate of smoking black _rocks,_ sitting by itself on a desk to the right next to a lone jar of jam. His curiosity getting the better of him, he reached out to touch one of them…_

_An explosion swept through the room, knocking Alfred off his feet and backwards towards the trolley, which slid backwards into the wall. The jam jar fell onto the floor, spilling its contents and pieces of broken glass everywhere. The other bakery products went flying, the globe smashing to the floor soon afterwards. The desk the _things_ had been sitting on was thrown a metre in the air, landing in a twisted, tangled heap. All Alfred could do was shield his face and wait for the blast to be over. _

_The chorus of yells and shouts from outside informed him that hiding was no longer an option. Jumping to his feet and squinting through the thick smoke, he pushed the trolley in the opposite direction to the door. There was another door somewhere over here, right…? _

_Okay, evidently there wasn't… _

_Shit…_

_Alfred pushed his hands up against the window in defeat. Great, now he was trapped. In despair, he threw a fist at the thick glass… Which went straight through. The boy blinked at the huge floor-to-ceiling window he had just smashed, before deciding to ask questions later and just grabbing the trolley and running._

_Away from the school and back in the open air, he breathed a sigh of relief. Well, not _too _much had gone wrong. He was going to call this one a success. _

_Back in the hallway, a teacher had called for help, while the other two milled around in a sleepy state of dazed shock. Mr. Vargas turned to his colleague and gave his trademark smile. _

"_Don't worry, Wilhelm, it was probably just a badger."_

"_A… Badger?"_

"_Yeah," said the head teacher, "You know what they're like… We have a real problem with them right now, you know." _

"_But still…"_

* * *

A/N And that, kids, is how Alfred got his super-strength! XD

Thanks for reading and please leave a review!


	11. Period 10: Vaccination Day

A/N Aaw don't we all love jabs? I think I was in a sadistic mood when I wrote this chapter… By the way: This made-up injection procedure is not accurate. Please don't hate me.

Thank you to Sho-chan669 and OutToGarden for reviewing and everyone who followed/favourited ^_^

Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't mine. Neither is Google Maps.

* * *

For once, Arthur thought today was a good day. However, as always, a good day is always inevitably ruined. In, of course, the way that said day will go wrong is specifically tailored to a combination of the victim's personal phobias, hatreds, and secrets they would rather other people didn't know, all topped off with a sprinkle of terrible timing and appalling bad luck.

Naturally, Arthur was, at the time, blissfully unaware of that – otherwise, he would have most definitely spent the day curled up under their duvet, with Alfred as his barrier between himself and the cruel world that always conspired against him and sought to ruin his rare periods of happiness with unimaginable horror and pain…

Okay, maybe he was overreacting.

* * *

"THIS IS NOT AN OVERREACTION!" Arthur yelled, pushing Alfred in front of him in the queue, "I just want you to go first!"

"Shush!" said Ms. Héderváry, "There are younger students down there doing a test!"

"BUT THIS IS VERY-" began Arthur, but Alfred pulled him to his chest, muffling his yell.

"Don't speak to her," he said fearfully, "You don't know what she's done…" Memories of _that _detention flooded into his head, and he cried out in terror, backing away from the Hungarian, who gave them an odd look.

"Are you alright, boys?" she asked, tilting her head. Alfred's eyes opened wide in panic and he backed away, still holding Arthur.

"Absolutely-fine-miss-nothing-to-worry-about," he babbled quickly, before grabbing his boyfriend's hand and dragging them both to the back of the queue. Lovino Vargas turned to look at them, before raising an eyebrow

"Hey bastards, you know it's going to be at least an hour before the nurse gets to us…" Arthur straightened up.

"Really?" he said, his face lighting up.

"Huh?" said Lovino, "Why is that a good thing?" The Brit's eyes widened like a rabbit in headlights.

"Be-because we have double geography right now," he managed, "A-and it's really boring and I'm so glad we get to miss it…" Lovino gave him an odd look.

"Yeah but you could just hang around for a bit afterwards like those guys over there," he said, gesturing to the ten or so students leaning against the back wall, "AND WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU PUTTING YOUR HANDS, TOMATO BASTARD?!" As a slap resonated through the room, Alfred turned back to his boyfriend.

"Don't worry, Artie, it's not that scary," he said, squeezing the shorter boy's hand.

"I'm not scared!" snapped Arthur, "Where the hell did you get that idea from?"

"Oh… Okay…" said Alfred, not letting go of the shorter boy's hand, "But if you are, the hero will-"

"I AM NOT SCARED. ESPECIALLY NOT OF THOSE BIG, LONG, FRIGHTENING, NEEDLES WITH REALLY SHARP ENDS THAT HURT!"

"Quiet at the back," called Ms. Héderváry, looking up from the front of the line. After that, a stony silence fell over the back of the queue. The minutes ticked by. Antonio got slapped again. A terrifying wail came from behind the curtain where the injections were taking place. Horrible baggy shirts with easily rolled-up sleeves were handed out to their small group. Arthur stared into the abyss of the green walls and wished he could somehow blend in to them for the next two hours until the nurse went home. Alfred swung their still joined hands backwards and forwards and hummed obliviously.

_Tick, tick, tick… _

* * *

"Next," called the nurse. Alfred looked expectantly at Arthur, but instead found himself being pushed forwards.

"Eh?" he asked, "But you were in front-"

"But it would be so unheroic for you to go second!" said Arthur unconvincingly, not meeting his boyfriends eyes.

"It… would?"

"Yes!" said Arthur, "Now go on, the nurse is waiting for you…" Alfred looked quizzically at Arthur for a moment, before shrugging and ducking under the curtain.

"Well, okay then… See you in a minute, babe." Alfred waited for the shorter boy's protest to his least favourite nickname, but to his surprise, none came. "Um, Artie?" he called, about to push up the curtain when a crisp voice called him over.

"Jones, is it? Please come over here and take a seat," said the nurse, gesturing to a chair next to her desk, which was littered with plasters and, er, stickers?

"But I just need to talk to my-" he began.

"NOW," the nurse scowled, her eyes flashing dangerously behind her reading glasses. Gukping and trying not to show fear, Alfred walked over to her and sat down, keeping as far away from her as possible. Needles weren't the thing that scared him, but this woman certainly was.

* * *

Arthur, too busy fretting to pay much attention to his surroundings, leaned against the wall, the only one in line who was yet to face the horror. Francis caught his eye and snickered. He mouthed what looked suspiciously like _'my poor little rosbif'_, grabbed hold of his arm and pretended to pout. With a jolt of fear, Arthur realised that the Frenchman knew the truth. Childhood friends were the worst.

The door flew open and Feliks strutted in, followed by a harried Toris who was desperately goading him to walk a '_little bit faster, because now we're late and we'll miss them_ -'

"Calm down," said Feliks, "Not my fault you wouldn't help me choose my outfit." He twirled a strand of hair around his finger, "Anyway, there's like, loads of time. See, Arthur's here." He began to walk over to him, before Heracles pounced. Arthur blinked, having never seen the Greek move so fast.

"So that's what you did with Hera," he said, grabbing hold of the brown fur adorning the blonde's neck. Feliks scowled.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, "I, like, saw it outside my room so I just assumed it was a gift and picked it up! It goes really well with this shirt, don't you think?"

"That is my cat."

"No, it's a scarf! My scarf!"

"_Meeeeeeeeeeeeow~_" The situation soon resolved itself when the 'scarf' slowly sat up on Feliks' shoulder, stretched, then immediately fell back to sleep again. There was silence.

"Well, it like, fell asleep on my shoulders," said Feliks decisively, "So clearly I should be able to keep it."

"No. That is my cat."

"Mi amigo, it does bring out his eyes… Why doesn't he keep it just for today?"

"But it is Heracles-san's cat…"

"Fur is very in this year, I've heard."

"Ve~ This spot on its fur looks like Michelangelo~!"

"Everyone, please calm down… I'm sure we can reach a compromise!"

"That is my cat."

"Become one with Russia and you can have all the scarves you want, da?"

"I will become one with you, brother…"

Francis watched with an amused expression as Arthur slowly backed away from the arguing crowd, reaching behind him for the door, edging it open, before turning and sprinting down the corridor. Oh wait, geography wasn't expecting him back for at least thirty minutes. And he was hardly in a hurry to spend more time with_ that_ teacher. Last lesson, she had put condoms into his and Alfred's exercise books…

Breathing hard from his run, he spied the infamous caretaker's cupboard. Realising that escaping to further off places would require him to move his legs (ugh, effort…), he decided that the mental strain of nearly being impaled by a ten-metre needle had drained him sufficiently of energy for further exercise to be detrimental to his health. Action justified, he pulled open the door and crept inside.

Exaggeration, what exaggeration?

* * *

**Meanwhile…**

Alfred walked out from behind the curtain and sighed.

"Just wait until you get in there, Artie," he said, stretching, "That nurse is a total psycho. She acts like she's so nice when you go in there, but do like anything wrong and she just goes EVIL. Really. It's funny, right?" he said, turning around, "Wait, A-Artie?" He looked around for his boyfriend. "Why'd he go?"

"Thirty Euros and the information is all yours," crooned a voice from behind him, "Also, she hates me as well. And Toni and Gil. And _everyone_."

"Whatever. And the hero doesn't need help to find his boyfriend," scowled Alfred in determination.

However, twenty minutes later, he was beginning to regret this decision. Why was this school so big anyway? He looked blankly around the latest hallway he had found himself in, and realised that he was in the Science Corridor. The Science Corridor at the opposite end of the school site to the nurse's office. Fucking wonderful. There was no way Arthur would be here. Sarcastically praising his sense of direction, he spun on his heel and ran back the way he came.

Well, er, he _thought_ that was the way he came…

Some time later, Alfred skidded to a halt outside the one of the few places he thought he had forgotten. But it wasn't where Arthur was. How convenient. B-but his phone had told him… Arthur HAD to be here. The apps don't lie! They… they don't… Alfred sank to his knees in despair.

"_Can't… have… jabs… too… horrible…"_ Alfred sat bolt upright. The voice, the suspiciously Arthur-like voice, was drifting towards him from the caretaker's cupboard. Ah. Another place he hadn't checked. He slowly got to his feet and walked quietly towards the door, before pushing it open to reveal Arthur rocking backwards and forwards in the corner, his hands over his ears and tears running down his face.

"A-Are you okay?" Alfred asked hopefully. This may not have been the most helpful question.

"DO I BLOODY LOOK OKAY?" Should have been the response he anticipated, but instead he was caught off guard as a now angry Arthur slapped his cheek. Hard.

"Ow…" he winced, "Come on Artie~ It doesn't hurt that much, heh…" Alfred grabbed his boyfriend's arm and attempted to drag him out of the room, "Let's just get it over with."

"NO!" yelled Arthur, pushing his boyfriend's shoulder to try to loosen the grip. The American immediately doubled over in pain.

"Fuck, Artie, not _that_ shoulder!" As soon as those words had left his mouth, Alfred realised that that may not have been the best thing to say to a person scared of injections. Arthur shuffled backwards, his arms behind his back so that his boyfriend couldn't grab hold of them again, until his back was against the wall. Wasn't this going well?

"Heh, I'm just kidding," Alfred said, waving his left arm around and trying not to wince as he did so, "It doesn't hurt at all! I was just trying to make you stop struggling so you'd come and… You're seeing right through this aren't you?"

"Yes." Alfred sighed.

"Just get it over with already," he said, "I'll be there and I'll hold your hand so it won't hurt."

"And make me look like a wimp in front of our whole Year?" Arthur replied.

"They won't know."

"They will," said the other blonde immediately, "They will always know. They know everything. They always will. They always will… Everyone always wants to know just so they can use it against us. They want to know. When there's a will there's a way. Nothing we do will ever be, will ever be secret. Hell, they probably know we're here right now. There's no way, there's no way I can…" He looked up at Alfred's face, hoping he was fooled. He was not.

"Okay," Alfred snapped, "This injection is not worth a mental breakdown. Come on." He grabbed Arthur's shoulder with his good arm and tried to prise him away from the wall. But like a stubborn child, he wouldn't move an inch. Alfred tried to divert him; "And how would they all know where we were when I couldn't find you?"

"Because no one else uses Google Maps with their boyfriend's name in the search bar to find said boyfriend," said Arthur primly, before Alfred seized the opportunity and used his distraction to pull them both away from the back of the cupboard and out into the hallway.

"I don't care Artie, I got you out of the-"

"-Make a closet joke and I will castrate you-"

"-_Cupboard,"_ finished Alfred, "Also, how did you know I used Google Maps?!"

"Just intuition," said Arthur, rolling his eyes before remembering what he was about to face.

"Don't even think about it," Alfred said quickly, seeing Arthur's eyes wander back towards his hiding place.

* * *

"Oh hello, dearie," smiled the nurse, pulling the curtain aside as Arthur walked in. The small crowd of students had since been, to his delight, been ushered back to lessons. He would have never been able to live down appearing in the state he was in otherwise. "Oh, and you," she continued, her face falling, "Why are _you_ here?"

"He's my boyfriend," Alfred replied defensively.

"Humph, the poor boy," she sighed, "Well come in if you must."

"Wha-What did I-?"

"Now honey, if you want to sit on this chair," the nurse continued sweetly, pulling out the chair for Arthur, "I just need to fill in this form."

"She seems really nice," Arthur whispered happily, "I'm so glad there's someone nice and not scary…" Alfred looked at him in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Well, yes…" he replied, slightly confused. Alfred was just about to launch into a rant on professional's hatred of humanity and how any moment now she was going to show her true colours, when he was interrupted.

"Is there any chance you may be pregnant?" the nurse asked, looking up from her form.

"No," said Arthur.

"Don't lie, Artie!" said Alfred, glaring, "You know what that teacher-"

"No it is," said the nurse, sending another death glare in Alfred's direction, "Now I'm just going to get the needle, wait here alright?" She disappeared for a moment, and Alfred immediately turned to his boyfriend.

"How could you lie to her like that?!"

"Guys can't get pregnant, twat!" Arthur retorted.

"Then why did she ask?"

"Because it's a form for fucks sake!"

"Jones, please refrain from swearing in my office," said the nurse, pushing the curtain aside and brandishing a small needle. Alfred stared at her in disbelief.

"It wasn't even me! Why… _Why do you hate me_?"

"Now, Mr. Kirkland, please roll your sleeve up and give me your left shoulder," she continued, ignoring Alfred (who was too busy plotting some elaborate revenge to notice). While he did so, she tore open the packet and examined the sharp point of the needle. The very, very sharp point that gleamed menacingly every time the light caught it and sent a long, thin shadow across the opposite wall…

"Just hurry up and do it already," said Arthur, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his boyfriend's forearm tightly, "Get it over with so I can spend the rest of my life in horrible agony unable to have anything touch my arm in case burning pain shoots down it and I have to go into rehabilitation to deal with the emotional suffering and withdrawal and crippling side effects and-"

"Aaand we're done," chirped the nurse, dabbing at the small spot of blood on the boy's shoulder with cotton wool, "Would you like a plaster?"

"-And I'll never be able to make tea with my left hand again and waitwhat?!"

"All done," repeated the nurse cheerily, "Now you can get back to your lesson." She offered Arthur a small plaster and a large 'Well Done' sticker.

"… Are you making fun of me?" said Arthur through gritted teeth. Alfred laughed, took the sticker and stuck it to the front of Arthur's blazer.

"Nope, but I am," he winked.

* * *

A/N The idea of Arthur with a massive 'Well Done' sticker was too much of a funny image to not include XD. I hope you enjoyed!

Please leave a review, and I will see you all next Monday~


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